


how the most dangerous thing is to love

by summersnowz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Forbidden Love, Love Letters, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summersnowz/pseuds/summersnowz
Summary: oldtowns 'museum of westeros' exhibition of the most famous displays of love throughout historya series of letters written from lady arya stark of winterfell to ser gendry of the hollow hill
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 250
Kudos: 249





	1. where you go, i’m going

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](https://summersnowz.tumblr.com/)

"Before entering this exhibition, we politely ask that there be no photography or touching of any of the exhibits. No food or drink is permitted beyond this point, and phones are asked to be put on silent. We hope you enjoy _Love Through the Ages_."

_Dear Gendry,_

_My heart has a terrible ache in it lately, as if it is burning or someone has a fist around it, squeezing it every time I move. It is so unbearably painful, I find myself unable to do anything except sit in my bed and write these letters._

_Mother says the ache is simple heartburn, but I know better._

_She also tells me that ginger tea will ease what ails me yet the only solace I have been able to find, my love, is when I write to you. She doesn't seem to understand that it is not anything of an illness that plagues me, or perhaps she does not wish to understand._

_I miss you dearly, and I pine for you everyday._

_There is a cup of ginger tea sitting next to me as I write this, tendrils of steam arising from the liquid. I find I quite like the taste, but I must admit that I prefer the bitter flavour of coffee on my tongue. Mother has banned it from our halls, insisting that tea is the drink of ladies._

_(I understood the meaning of her words quite well, she was not as subtle as she believed herself to be.)_

_Speaking of ladies, Sansa has been quite out of sorts lately, quiet and spending an awful amount of time in her room. I overheard her lady's maid discussing how ashen-faced she has been, and that her eyes have been red more often than not as of late._

_I want to ask how she is but I am still furious with her, so I shall not._

_(I can hear you laughing at me already, and I can hear you about to tell me not to be so stubborn. To that I would reply that your moniker is 'the Bull' so perhaps you should take a look at yourself first before questioning my life decisions!_

_Though, you are not here to tell me that and my anger only grows with each sunrise and sunset.)_

_Instead, I am content to listen to the gossip of the maids, they know an unsettling amount of information! For example, it is rumoured that the heir to the Vale - sick little Robert Arryn - is in fact not an Arryn! Of course, these are just rumours, but could you imagine the scandal it would cause?_

_I am loathe to say that it would probably rival ours._

_The true issue is, if Robert Arryn is decidedly not an Arryn then the Vale would go to the pompous Harrold Hardyng who is, in fact, visiting us right now._

_(I wonder if that has something to do with Sansas current state? She does have quite the weakness for pretty men, but that would mean her love of Prince Joffrey has suddenly disappeared. I must consult with the maids.)_

_He isn't terrible, per se, but he is very highborn. Mother made me dance with him at our welcoming feast (I can see your nostrils flaring, Gendry, there was nothing to it) and for the entire night, he kept telling me about his bastard children! I suspect I know why, but I didn't really care about his children for I do not care one bit about him._

_Then, he had the gall to say that one of the mother of his children - a woman named Cissy - was as 'fat as a cow' after pregnancy! I was speechless, the nerve of this man, Gendry, and he was expecting me to agree with him!_

_Instead, I promptly kneed him in the groin._

_Yes, mother was furious, as expected. She wanted me to apologise to him but I refused, not until he apologised for his cruel words about a woman who was not there to defend herself. Of course, he thought he had nothing to apologise for and so I said that I did not either._

_Suffice to say, my love, things have been awfully tense at Winterfell._

_I wish they would just leave, then I would not be subject to this torture anymore. I know that my father is contemplating fostering Robert, as he is my cousin and father fostered with his father, but I doubt Lady Lysa would see it happen. Though, if the King says it, it must be done._

_The King will also be coming to Winterfell soon, as you know he has not visited for years after father rejected his offer to come south so we are all quite apprehensive at what the visit will bring._

_I hope it is nothing terrible, for I will have to bear it alone._

_I wish you were here, Gendry, I feel so lonely without you. I cannot go into the forge anymore out of fear of seeing your ghost and leaping into his arms, only to be greeted with the cold kiss of the wind._

_I cannot go into the kitchens, for every black-haired male I see eating his lunch reminds me of you, and the terrible ache comes back. I end up staggering back into my room, and crying into my pillows when the colour of his eyes aren't the correct shade of blue._

~~_I know that you cannot come back but please please do, I need you here, I want you here. Please come back. Please please please._ ~~

_My heart burns from the moment I wake up until it becomes blackened ash in my chest. The steady memories in my dreams thrum it back to life, only for the light to come anew and the harsh sun to set it alight all over again. I yearn to be in your arms once more._

_No amount of ginger tea will ever restore my heart to the organ it once was._

_I must be going now. I will write to you again, my love._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, i have another fic right now but i couldn’t resist !! i had the idea and i wanted to write it, so here we are  
> i’m excited to write these letters, bc they aren’t too hard to write and i enjoy it a lot, so i hope u will too !!  
> as always, be sure to comment and lmk what u think !!


	2. since there is no me without you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](https://summersnowz.tumblr.com/)

Whilst it is in impeccable condition, this letter is the most damaged in the collection. The paper is stained and slightly smudged from what appears to be splotches of tears that had fallen onto the parchment.

This letter inspired many great poems such as:

'The Vase' by Neina Plumm

and

'The Flood of Forges' by James Lannister III

[The poem uses the line from the letter:

'I hope with all the ashes of my heart']

_Dear Gendry,_

_I walked past the forge today, for the first time since that day. The smell of smoke and the song of steel felt like home, as if you were in front of me once again. I long to watch you in the forge once more, my love, I wish I could hear your song of steel again._

_Sometimes, I try to imagine you as you are now. I picture you in your forge, in the Riverlands, in the Reach or perhaps even Dorne. You have soot on your cheek, and when you go to wipe it off you end up smearing it even more._

_There's a woman, sometimes, in this picture. I think of her when I try to envision the life that you deserve ~~or when I want to torture myself, stab myself with the shards of my heart, taunt myself with what could have been~~. Though her appearance changes, she is always beautiful._

_You love this woman, and you love her dearly. She is the perfect wife, kind and loving. She loves you too, how could she not? She wipes your cheek, and when she does, the soot comes off._

_You're her love now, and in this picture she is round with child. Bull, she is the vision of a perfect wife, and she seems to be sent by the mother herself. When I picture your life, my love, I have to picture you happy. I have to picture you happy otherwise I fear that I may break into tiny little pieces, and they will be too small to put back together._

_I remember, it was that day I had broke my mothers Myrish vase. The glass smashed all over the floor and onto my feet. There was blood staining my dress and the stones of Winterfell as I was taken back to my chambers. I recall the maids fussing about and wincing each time Maester Luwin pulled another shard of glass out. I hardly felt it._

_Mother had came to my rooms afterwards, looking as if she wanted to lecture me. Perhaps she was pitiful of me for she didn't. Or perhaps she realised that I simply did not care, and that the broken vase was just another broken item on a very long list._

_I like to imagine that, wherever you are, you have moved on, even if it pains me to say so. You have your forge, and your love, and you are truly happy. You still frown (for I fancy that will never change) but it is not a frown of sadness. This woman is able to receive your smiles as I once did, as I still plead to do so._

_You love this woman, and you forget all about the wild lady who broke your heart._

[This line has been smudged and crossed out beyond translation]

_I miss you so much, my love, but I hope with all the ashes of my heart that you do not miss me. This is not an agony that I wish to see on your features, though I suppose I wish that you would never experience the feeling of agony. I hope to wrap you in my love and protect you, but my edges are sharp and I caused more trouble than wanted._

_There are many things I regret, my love, but I can never regret you._

_If I ever met this woman, I would tell her not to bother trying to get rid of the ash lingering on her skin and, instead, wear it with pride. Let the smell of steel become the one people know you for and wear the fingerprint shaped soot marks with power._

_I would tell her to relish in being known as the blacksmiths bride._

_The servants used to whisper of us, but they would never tell a soul of what we did. Nobody would, and as I walked past the forge I could feel them staring. Lyra was with me, and I was thankful when she made us keep walking for I feared that I may have stood there forever, waiting for you to emerge._

_Mikken watched as I stared, and I noticed he still has not found another smith. Perhaps he is like me, still waiting for you to come back. A many great people miss you, Gendry, though I suppose you would not believe me._

_I had thought, by now, that I had accepted that you were not coming back. Yet, as I stood in front of the smithy I realised that I simply never will. I think I will always expect you to be there, ~~and when you are not~~_

_Instead, I have to be content with the life I have dreamed up for you. A smithy that you call your own and in which your children run about. Your wife to the side of you, her face glowing, the picture of love and on her hips there are faint marks of handprints in soot._

_You have a smile on your face, it is lopsided and beautiful. Once, you would only give it to me but now, your smiles are for your family._

~~_I could be your family_ ~~

[This line has been translated due to smudging] _Of a night, you tuck your children into bed, kissing their black hair and watching as they try to fight sleep valiantly. You go to your wife, and you kiss her as you once kissed me. It feels like so long ago, and you go to sleep with her in your arms and you do not dream of me any longer._

_I will forever dream of you, Gendry, but I have to imagine you happy._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter, and this one is a bit sadder than the other.  
> also, as we see, gendry is not dead !!! the reason to why the letters aren’t being sent is actually mentioned here, just not outright.  
> anyways, as always thank you so much for reading and please comment and lmk what u think !!


	3. redemption lies plainly in truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](https://summersnowz.tumblr.com/)

_Dear Gendry,_

_Things have been moving awful slowly at Winterfell, and really nothing has been happening except preparation for the kings visit. However, there have been a few developments in the grand scheme of things, so I will tell you those._

_First things first, Lord Hardyng has finally apologised for his callous words at the feast. My love, his words were about as genuine as a penniless seer looking for their next client. Perhaps a more specific comparison, but he was so falsely charming that I thought it applied._

_Now, of course I apologised back for I did give my word after all but it seems that since then, Lord Harrold has taken to escorting me everywhere._

_Everywhere._

_Gendry, I swear I have never missed Sansa more. When she was up and about, the lordlings would gravitate to her and leave me in my much sought-after peace._

_(Oh! I must tell you, my love, that I found out the reason for her absence!_

_Though, I will tell you after this, I mustn't get off track otherwise I will never get on it again. I promise you though, it is very Sansa.)_

_It is as if I am not in my own home! He grabs me by the elbow and insists on letting him guide me! I know more about these walls than he ever will, and I am frighteningly close to kneeing him once again. I haven't had the chance to water dance because of him, which makes my already dislike grow expectationally._

_He is irritatingly charming, and yet I find myself more often annoyed by his words than enticed as I presume is his intention. It is all a farce, my love, and I find myself slipping into another world whenever I am forced to listen to him speak._

_In this world, I am by your side as we walk through the halls. I have your hand in mine as you listen to me talk, or we are in the forge and the only sound is of the steel. It is a world often reminiscent of our times together._

_Fortunately for me, Lyra seems to dislike him as much as I do. In fact, she has cultivated her very own spy ring that is intent on always knowing his whereabouts so that we can avoid him at all times._

_I do love that girl._

_(She misses you greatly, Gendry, she thought of you as an older brother of sorts. ~~If you would just come back please come back~~ )_

_As of such, I spend most of my time scurrying around Winterfell so that Lord Harrold will not spot me. It has been working very effectively, after all, Syrio says that I am unnaturally good at disappearing._

_Now that we have the obnoxious Lord Harrold out the way, lets speak of Sansa._

_Gendry, my love, I know that it is a terribly awful thing to laugh at anothers pain and surely the gods above will curse me for doing so but I truly, honestly, could not stop my amusement as Sansa told me what ails her._

_Apparently, father told her that Prince Joffery is to be betrothed to Lady Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden and thus, Lady Margaery will be queen._

_I think I do not need to explain why Sansa was upset, or why I was laughing._

_Though you must congratulate me, my love, for when I found out I went to her chambers, composed myself, and comforted her. Even if I will never forgive her for what she did, she is still my sister._

_However I must confess, and I know that this is a confession I can only make to you, that I feel some sort of sick satisfaction at Sansas distress. I muse that maybe the gods are punishing her as they see fit, for she now knows how I feel every single day._

_Yet I would wager that even still, she does not know the true extent of my pain. Sansa was enamoured by Joffrey and in love with the sole idea of becoming queen one day. I am in love with you. I do not think she can understand._

_(I still miss you dearly, as I do every day. It is becoming a natural part of my life, though I loathe it so. Missing you is easy, my love, just as loving you is easy too.)_

_I managed to slip away from Sansas misery, if only to write this letter. It was embarrassingly simple, everyone is busy bustling about in preparation for the kings visit. We are to hold a ball, and I must say that I am not excited in the least._

_The idea that I will have to watch Sansa pine after Joffery whilst I pine for you, does not put me in good spirits. Though I do know that the Wylla is organising the music that will be played, so there is that at least! We will at least have a good northern dance or two._

_And yet, my love, I still find a great apprehension accompanying me whenever I think of the kings visit. Prince Joffrey is now betrothed, and so I cannot see why this visit is even taking place. There is no feasible reason he should be visiting and coming all the way North!_

_Figuring out what troubles Sansa has, admittedly, not done much to quell my fears._

_There have been whispers, lately, of a betrothal between our two houses. I surely will not be chosen, as everyone in Winterfell knows of us and what we did. Sansa cannot be chosen, as she is much too old to marry Tommen._

_(And the eldest Stark daughter marrying the second son of the king? I do not think it would be in anyones greatest interest for that to happen.)_

_The most favourable match I can foresee would be Bran marrying Princess Myrcella. It would be a good match, they are of a similar age and I have heard that the princess is as kind as she is beautiful. A little naive, but sweet nonetheless._

_Whilst this is the likely reasoning for the visit, I cannot help but feel a sort of sadness for my brother. He had always hoped to be Kingsguard, a brave knight, and I had hoped that at least one of us would be able to live our dreams._

_(There have also been more sinister rumours, Lyra was telling me. Rumours of adultery and infidelity. I will not write them here, nothing good can come of it.)_

_I can only hope, bull, that my fears are unfounded._

_Now, I must be getting back to Sansa for I am sure her room is flooded from all the tears she is crying. I will write to you soon, my love._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter everyone!  
> i really love writing this story, mainly bc im enjoying the letter formatting. its nice and simple to write and i can do whatever i want with it. and since my school is all remote, its given some much needed respite from looking at wolseys foreign policy all day.  
> anyway, thank you for reading and please comment and lmk what u think!


	4. it is a pointless resistance for you

_Dear Gendry,_

_I am so furious right now, I can hardly breathe. I don't know why this is happening to me, and I fear greatly the consequences. I am scared, my love, and I hate it._

_Perhaps I should give you some context to my feelings._

_The King is set to arrive in one week, and my mother is hurriedly preparing for the ball in his honour. As a result she has not had much time to watch me and my whereabouts, which I tell you, she has become quite eagle-eyed with (I presume we can both garner as to why.)_

_My days resulting have been very freeing, I have been able to practice my water-dancing in the courtyard and I have worn breeches more than twice without being reprimanded! I should have known it wouldn't last but hope is a cruel addiction._

_Just a few moments ago, father called me to his solar. My mother was there, as was Robb and I thought, for a second, that I was in trouble with them. Then, I spied the plate of cinnamon rolls on the small side table and I knew, that I was in trouble, but with whom was the question._

~~_My father sat me down_ ~~

~~_My father told me the king_ ~~

_Gendry, my love, won't you come back to me? I can barely write the beginnings of the next sentence, for if I write them down then it means that they are true. I don't want them to be true, my love, they cannot be true._

_My father had sat me down, and told me he is worried for my safety when the king arrives. Apparently, rumours have reached the Kings ears. Rumours of the wild Lady Arya looking much like his lost Lady Lyanna. My father worries that King Robert will attempt something._

_I feel ill writing this, bull, I feel as if I am dishonouring you._

_I asked my father what that would mean, as King Robert is very much married to Queen Cersei and an annulment is certainly not possible due to Lord Tywin being the Hand of the King and - most importantly - the Crowns main financial backer._

_(Father looked most bewildered as I asked him this, I think he assumed I would not know of the last thing. Foolish, everybody knows._

_It also helps that the maids love me.)_

_Father then told me that it doesn't matter to King Robert if he is married or not. More than that though, the rumours around Winterfell may hold more weight to them than I originally thought._

_He didn't get to finish his sentence as I was already emptying my stomach in the chamber pot._

_Mother held back my hair, and she walked me to my chambers. She looked truly terrified as she kissed my forehead and told me to rest. I felt a tingle of fear howl down my spine, and I still feel it now._

_I miss you fiercely, my love, I need you here. The king wouldn't go near me if you were here, or I would hide myself in the forge until he was gone._

_I can protect myself, I know I can. I beat Robb, and Bran, and Ser Rodrick didn't stand a chance. Yet I cannot protect myself from this, not if I want to keep my head firmly on my shoulders._

_Gendry, please, why did you not tell me wher_

_There is a knock on my door, I will continue when I can._

_I am back now, my love, and surprisingly, it was Sansa at the door. She carried a tray of cinnamon rolls and a teapot filled with ginger tea, for my stomach, she said._

_Sansa and I have been more amicable since I comforted her over Prince Joffery, and though I will never forgive nor forget what she had done to us, I can see us beginning to build some sort of a sisterhood._

_She apologised, my love, for everything she has ever done. I cannot forgive her. Perhaps I could if I were in your arms, but I am not and Sansa will have to accept that her apology will be accepted, but she is not forgiven._

_We talked of the king, and what all of this could mean. The conversation has not eased me, and I feel the urge to throw up once more. If only they would tell me, I could come to you. We could be outlaws, like the songs._

_I have spent far too much time with Sansa._

_If the rumours are to be believed, then it seems that King Robert will be in need of a new queen. A new queen to give him new heirs. A new young queen, and he seems to think the one who is said to be Lyannas ghost should be her._

_Nothing is confirmed, all of this rumours and fearful talk. Yet I know, in my soul and my head, that it is more truth than fiction. Sansa says father will have a plan in place, and that Queen Cersie can never be put to the side as long as Lord Tywin is hand. She tells me it will all be fine._

_She is a fool._

_If the rumours are to be believed, then Lord Tywin will have no say in what happens to the queen. The evidence will have to be substantial, but for father to tell me this, I suppose it is. I would wager that the king has not told anyone but my father - and perhaps the late Lord Arryn - and I wonder if he has mentioned me or if this is just fathers assumption._

_I presume it is the latter for my father knows King Robert better than himself._

_I can only hope that father does have a plan in mind, though I know whatever it would be is going to be the end of me. I cannot come out of this alive, my love, in mind or in body._

_Gendry, if this comes to fruition, I hope that wherever you are you know that I can love no other. You are it for me, my love, I will never love another as I love you. I know I dream of your life without me, and it is vastly better, but I am a selfish woman and I only want you._

_Sansa will be staying with me tonight, as if we are small girls once again. I am thankful for it as I know I cannot be alone. There is not much to be done now, bull, all I can do is wait for the end to come at Winterfells gates wearing a golden crown._

_I only wish to see you one last time._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohoho!  
> i dont know what to say to this, tbh! also, sorry for not replying to the comments on the last chapter, but i couldn't reply without giving spoilers!  
> but quick question abt this fic, would u guys like to see some actual writing/narration in this? it would still have the letters, but also story and narration. i don't mind either way, i'd just like to know what u all would like!  
> as always, thank you all so much for reading and lmk what u think!!


	5. you crave the applause yet hate the attention

**_READ THIS FIRST_ **

_Dear Gendry,_

_I am aware of the shock you must be currently feeling as you read this letter, and as our raven sits on your windowsill. I must admit I never thought I would be writing to you, as I confess I was under the impression you could not read._

_Thus, I was vastly confused when I spied the letters addressed to you sitting on Aryas desk. I decided to speak to Lyra, and she told me that your old master would expect nothing less of his apprentice. She also confessed that Arya helped you refine your skills, which helped me feel more comfortable about what I was about to do._

_As I am writing this, Arya is currently asleep in bed and Bran is procuring the fastest raven in the rookery. We have just received some dire news, and I knew I must act urgently._

_Gendry, the king is coming to Winterfell and he is planning on looking for a new queen._

_I will not go into detail in my letter, as the three letters I managed to take from Aryas desk will tell you the situation directly from her. I will tell you that Arya is in danger, and that you must come to Winterfell as soon as you read this letter._

_You can read Aryas letters on the road here, and I suggest starting with the latest one first._

_Many people take me for a fool, though I will be the first to admit that I have been exceptionally foolish in my actions. I was petty, vindictive and jealous when I did what I did, and I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth._

_Arya has not been the same since you were forced to leave, though she is still as chatty as ever with the servants. She is more often than not in her rooms, and from what I now know, writing you letters._

_There were hundreds upon her desk._

_She was sunken in after that day, her cheeks became hollow and her eyes dull. Soon, she was lively and as unladylike as ever yet I and everyone in Winterfell could see her every move twinged with sadness._

_I loathe the fact that I put it there._

_I want to make things right, and for once I want to be the elder sister Arya deserves. I need to protect her._

_In one of her letters I am sure she tells you that I have been upset lately, but I will tell you that the reason I gave her was not one of the truth._

_I need to protect my sister, Gendry, and you need to come to Winterfell._

_The gates will be open._

_Respectfully,_

_Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell._

Winterfell seemed to be overcast with weariness, a cloud of foreboding hanging over the great stone castle as Sansa glided through the halls. The maids stopped as she passed, bowing their heads and clutching their towels close to their chests.

The thought of anyone bowing to her was one that used to fill her with glee, now it only caused dread to seep into her veins.

The skirts of her gown swept the grey stone, the pale pink colour stark against the bleak background. Though she loathed the South, Sansa could not help but love the fashion. She adored the elaborate up-dos, jewels hanging from her throat, a train sweeping behind her. The ladies wearing them, however, were another story she did not wish to tell.

Sansa shivered despite herself, the shawl wrapped around her shoulders redundant against the chill lingering in the air as she ended at her fathers solar.

A light knock on the door was all she needed to do, her fathers voice calling out as soon as her knuckles met the wood. Sansa braced her hand upon the doorknob, hesitating only slightly before pushing it open, the warmth from the fireplace greeting her at once.

"Father." She greeted with a small nod, sitting in front of him, adjusting herself as needs be. Her father nodded back, giving her a small smile, though Sansa could see the worry carved plainly into his face.

He reminded her, sometimes, of the statues in the crypts. The thought was a horrid one, and one she wished to banish from each crevice of her mind yet as she watched him stand next to the fire, the thought was most prevalent.

As a child, when Sansa was told of the old Kings of Winter - she had been thrilled at that, knowing her ancestors were royalty - the only face she could picture for them was the one of her fathers, a direwolf at his feet and a crown of bronze on his head.

She took a breath, and reminded herself that she was doing this for Arya.

"I sent a letter, father."

Her father smiled, indulgent and she could see the confusion brimming on his features. "Well, sweetling, whilst that is certainly interesting, I do not see why you feel the need to tell me."

His voice was soft, but Sansa was no fool. She may play one, may act stupid and vapid and vain yet she was no fool. Sansa knew her father could be as cold as ice, and as sharp too. She tried not to remember her last day in the South, but her fathers words stayed with her, his tone the one of kings.

"I sent it to a small town near Deepwood Motte, Ashborne it is called." She watched closely as her father stilled, Winter raising her head from her place sprawled out on the fur rug, nudging his hand with her snout. He seemed to reel back, composing himself.

He turned to her then, and Sansa was somewhat surprised to find a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. "Good." He said, reaching down to pet Winter, the direwolfs tongue lolling out.

"You're not mad?" She asked, observing his movements and watching as he walked back to his seat, facing her directly. "No," he replied, easing himself into his chair, "you did the right thing. I only wish I would have done it myself."

Sansa nodded, "Bran helped."

Her father laughed softly, shaking his head. "Yes," he said, shuffling papers on his desk, "I thought he would have."

She allowed herself to smile, remembering the night before when Bran had enthusiastically promised to help her, clutching her hands as he promised that he would protect Arya no matter what.

Her sister was incredibly loved, and not for the first time Sansa felt guilt wrap around her throat like a noose for taking away the only person who had showed her that.

She gulped down a lump forming in her throat, her heart seizing in her chest at the thought of her wild little sister chained to a bloodied crown.

 _Gold may be pretty,_ she thought, _but steel is stronger._

"I'm scared, father." Her voice was as firm as she willed it, yet Sansa felt as if she were a small girl again, disillusioned by the glamour of court, unaware of the darkness lurking under it. The same court that was coming to her home, coming to take her sister.

Her hands fisted her dress, the fabric creasing under her grip.

As she spoke, her father softened, coming around the desk and crouching in front of her, resting his hands on her knees. Winter followed, nudging her head into Sansas hand and Sansa obliged, releasing her dress and running her fingers through the wolfs soft fur.

"Sweetling," he spoke, his tone harsh yet warm, "they will not take Arya." He squeezed her knee as he continued, "I will not let them take another of my family, and I feel immense regret at even letting them think of taking you."

Sansa felt her eyes burn, and she blinked back the forthcoming tears. "I was stupid," she said, shaking her head, "I was a stupid little girl who couldn't take no for an answer."

"No," her father replied, holding up a hand as she went to interject, "you were a child, sweet girl, and I should have known better." He sighed, and Winter whined, moving from Sansas hand and nuzzling her nose against her fathers cheek.

Sansa reached forward, taking her fathers hand in her own and squeezing it. "We won't make the same mistake, father, we won't let them take Arya."

She thought of the snap her father had spoken with that day, how he had gone against his king to protect his daughter. She thought of his cold eyes as Gendry was escorted from Winterfell, Aryas cries echoing throughout the halls.

 _We will not make the same mistakes,_ she promised, resting her head on his shoulder, _we cannot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sansa pov !! surprising, but i felt it fit. arya will be next, of course, and the story will continue to unfold.  
> i’m happy with the narration, and i think it adds more to to story. so thank you to everyone who commented last chapter !  
> as always everyone, thank you all for reading and please comment and lmk what u think !!


	6. hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

Arya relaxed as Lyra worked her fingers through her hair, pulling and tugging it to form some semblance of an updo on her head, dark errant curls framing her face. The young maid huffed, trying to pin back Aryas wild curls to no avail.

She had once hated her hair, hated the untameable nest residing on top of her head. It had not been made better by Septa Mordane insisting they wear it in the latest fashions of the South, fashions in which Aryas hair did not lend itself well too. There was constant chastising and scolding as a result of which, and Arya ended up detesting her hair.

It is not to say that she loved it now, truthfully Arya has no strong feelings towards her hair anymore but she remembered a person who had once loved it for her, who had once taken the time to run his fingers through it gently. He used to place kisses into it, and brush it away from her face. He used to thread his hands in it, pulling it harshly and pressing wet kisses onto her neck.

Arya cleared her throat, stopping her thoughts which would undoubtedly lead to a red flush on her cheeks and instead, looked to Lyra in the mirror. "Where will Lord Hardyng be today?" She asked, playing with the gloves sitting in her lap.

"He is in the courtyard, my lady, practising with Lord Arryn." Lyras voice was light and girlish, yet she held a sour look on her face, as if she had just eaten a lemon or smelt something rotten. Arya laughed, turning slightly as she finished with her hair.

"Do not fret, Lyra," she said, patting her arm soothingly, "we are going to the glass gardens today, so neither of us will be subjected to Lord Harrolds _charm_."

Her maid giggled, nodding her head appreciatively, "I know it is not my place to say, my lady, but he is easily one of the most annoying Lords I have had the displeasure of meeting."

Arya stood, "You can say he is a twat, Lyra."

"My lady!" She admonished, though the small girl was giggling as she said it, and Arya laughed with her, fetching a basket from her drawers. The laughter pattered off as Lyra placed a shawl around Aryas shoulders and she slipped on her leather gloves.

After inquiring for some honey to be delivered to her chamber for when she returned, Arya and Lyra made their way to the glass gardens, snow crunching beneath her boots.

 _Winter is coming,_ she thought, a pang echoing throughout her at the thought of the summer ending, and all that was made in it too.

 _Things die in winter,_ she avoided a patch of ice, _people forget._

Arya wondered if she would rather forget those months, forget the smell of smoke and steel that still lingered in her nose. Forget how calloused hands felt on soft skin, how he would drag his finger across the inner of her thigh, watching with dark eyes as she shuddered.

No, Arya decided she would never want to forget that.

Yet, there was a part of her that wished fervently to forget that night, when she had been called into her fathers solar. Sansa had red-rimmed eyes, and a tissue in hand. She remembered begging and pleading her father to spare him, her small hands clutching his shirt. She remembered vividly him pulling away, and leaving her with empty air.

She wondered if to forget the bad, you would be forced to forget the good. Moreso, Arya wondered if any of it was truly worth it in the end.

"My Lady? We're here."

Arya nodded her thanks, making her way into the gardens, "Lyra, what have I told you? You do not need to call me that."

"Apologies, my lady, but I would rather die."

"You are awfully dramatic."

"It is a family trait."

The warmth of the gardens was a welcomed respite from the cold outside, and the sweet scent of flowers hung in the air. She made her way through the gardens quickly, picking mint and chamomile, stopping to smell the winter roses, picking tansy and wormwood, some lavender and lemon verbena. Finally, she finished by placing a few stems of pennyroyal in her basket.

"Lyra, should we pick some apples and berries? Mayhap we can ask the kitchens for some sandwiches and," she turned to the young maid, who was smiling widely and already heading towards the fruit, "make a picnic out of it."

Arya laughed minutely, her skirts sweeping the ground as she walked to the peaches, picking some and placing them in her basket. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Lyra with her arms full of fruit. She had always loved their picnics, when Arya would get the fruit, Lyra the sandwiches and drink, and Gendry the blankets.

The three of them would head to the Godswood, sitting on the blankets and simply enjoying one anothers company. The sun would be beating down upon them, and Arya remembered Lyra would beg Gendry to throw her into the pools, her childish laughter ringing out when he obliged.

Those days made up some of Aryas most treasured memories.

"Lady Arya!"

"Oh Gods." She muttered, bracing herself before turning around, her eyes meeting the insufferable face of Lord Harrold, a charming smile plastered upon his lips. Arya pushed down a forthcoming grimace, instead opting for a polite nod in his direction.

"I have been looking for you." He said, his smile turning boyish.

"Well," she replied, watching as Lyras noticed his presence, her face turning bitter, “I was always here."

"Ah, yes," he laughed, "but the servants are awfully secretive about your whereabouts, my lady."

Aryas face remained blank, her insides turning at the way her title rolled off his tongue. _M'lady,_ she thought, _only m'lady._

"Perhaps that should give indication that I did not wish to be found." Her tone was cool, and she heard the footsteps of Lyra come behind her, Lord Hardyngs eyes flicking over her shoulder. He smiled at her, and Arya repressed a smirk when his smile fell, Lyra not giving way to his charms.

He looked to her basket, and to Lyras fruit-laden arms, "Are you having some sort of a picnic?" Arya tilted her head at his question, turning to the girl next to her and handing her the basket to deposit the fruit, watching closely as Lyra tensed at his question.

"No," she replied, "we're delivering to the kitchens."

Lyra relaxed, ducking her head and tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

"Of course, of course.” Lord Harrold said, though Arya assumed he was likely questioning why a highborn lady was helping out with kitchen work, _I am not a lady._

"May I be forward with you, Lady Arya?"

She raised a brow, "Always, my lord."

"Very well." He smiled at her, his teeth almost gleaming in the sun, "I wish to escort you to the ball held in the kings honour, my lady, if you would allow me to do so."

Arya blanched, her face turning pale. Bile began to rise in her throat, and she gulped it down, an acidic taste coating her throat. "No," she said, speaking quickly as Lord Harrold reeled back, "no, my brother, Bran, will be escorting me."

The lie slipped from her tongue, "He has nobody to escort, and so I told him he may escort me as to make him feel more included." Arya forced her voice to become sympathetic, and sickly sweet. "I am truly sorry, Lord Harrold, but I cannot go back on my word. Perhaps you may ask my sister, Sansa? She has been in much better spirits as of late and is a much better dancer."

The young lord nodded, his arrogance seemingly disappeared over the course of Aryas words. "A shame.” He said, “But it is as you say, my lady, I will go find your sister at once." He grinned, and Arya feared had it been any wider she would have to turn away, his smile blinding and bright.

Lord Harrold walked away, and Arya was left in the gardens in silence.

She turned to Lyra, beckoning her closer and looping her arm. "Come," she said, forcing a smile onto her face, "let us have our picnic."

_Dear Gendry,_

_I had a lovely picnic today with Lyra, we laid a blanket out on a field just outside of The Hunter's Gate and ate until our bellies were full. We had picked the fruit together, and got the blanket together, too. Gage made us some sandwiches, and gave us a pitcher of lemonade. Though there was ice on the ground, we were fortunate enough that the sun had came out by then, its rays had melted almost all of the snow._

_(Nymeria even accompanied us, which surprised me as i thought she was out hunting for the day.)_

_Lyra truly enjoyed herself, giggling away as we exchanged household gossip. Apparently, two of the maids got into quite the scuffle! It was Alora, which was not surprising in the least, and, more surprisingly, Tracy!_

_It seems, my love, that the stable boy has gotten himself into quite the predicament with the two of them. According to Lyra, Carsen was laying with Alora yet in the same breath, courting Tracy. When the two girls found out, well, let me only say that Vayon had to get involved._

_(Maester Luwin was called in also, it seems that these two girls were quite vicious.)_

_I don't understand why they fought each other, when it was clearly Carsen who was in the wrong. He seems to be on a wayward, dangerous path, my love, and I fear the once-sweet boy we knew is going to be getting into more serious trouble as time progress'._

_However, my day wasn't all too good for I ran into Lord Harrold whilst I was picking the fruit. He is unbearably charming, and Lyra does not like him one bit. More than that, my love, he asked to escort me to the ball._

_I am under no false pretences about what his true intention was, and so I directed him to Sansa instead. The thought of another man coming near me in such a fashion makes me feel truly ill, my love, for I want no others hands near me but your own._

_The king will be coming in two days, and I know that my end will be coming with him._

_Though, I will tell you Gendry, and only you, that I will throw myself from the highest tower of Winterfell before marrying him. I will not be his wife nor his queen, and I will ensure that it will never happen._

_I miss you dearly, bull, as does Lyra. I suspect Carsen does too, but he has not come to me and so I cannot help him. You have left a hole in all our lives, my love, and I wish you would come back._

_My wishes seem to be fruitless these days._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya._

Arya placed her quill down, standing up and heading to her small table. Her herbs she had picked were laid out in front of her, as was the honey she requested. She chose the herbs she needed, placing them delicately in the cup and pouring boiling water over the top.

A dollop of honey, a quick stir and her tea was sitting readily in her mug.

She made her way over to the window seat, placing the cup in front of her. Her skirts gathered around her, grey as the stone walls and Arya watched the steam rise from the cup. She rested her head against the wall, bringing the tea up to her chest, observing the empty courtyard and wondering, fleetingly, how far the drop would be.

Arya dumped the tea out of her window, not taking a sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arya !! here she is everyone  
> honestly, i’m a bit iffy on this chapter, some bits don’t flow like i want them to but it is what it is, we move forward  
> anyways, next chapter is the arrival of the king, and the gates are suspiciously open  
> thank you all for reading and please comment n lmk what u think !!


	7. it’s chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy

This type of dagger is known as the _kris blade_ and is regarded   
as one of the most intricate pieces of metalwork of all time.   
It is in impeccable condition with minimal damage, suggesting it was well loved and also well cared for.  
Ser Gendrys pieces are known as some of the best examples of blacksmithing  
of all history and his gifts to Lady Arya are  
often-times his most beautiful and time-consuming.

_The dagger is small, with wavy edges and intricate metalwork in its iron. The iron of the blade seems to be reminiscent of Valyrian Steel, as the metal has been folded and shaped in similar fashion. There is also a design of a heart tree carved into the iron._

_The hilt of the dagger is leather and curved, as to provide better grip. The pommel is a coin, with a direwolf etched into one side, that has small amber diamonds for its eyes, a reference to Lady Aryas house sigil, and her own direwolf 'Nymeria.' A bull is carved into the other side, reference to Ser Gendrys famous moniker, 'The Bull.'_

_The crossguard is simple, with iron that has been shaped into scales. It is most likely a nod to Lady Aryas Tully heritage through her mother._

_It is estimated that this dagger took Ser Gendry more than two weeks, as opposed to the week it would usually take._

_This dagger was gifted to Lady Arya and is known as one of historys greatest tokens of love._

Sansas stomach turned as the great black and gold banners entered through their gates, red and gold scattered amongst them. First came a kingsguard, the hound not far behind and then _him_.

Prince Joffrey looked as handsome as ever, his hair seemingly spun from golden thread, and his eyes a gemstone green. He wore a coat with golden embroidery in the shape of stags and lions, the colour so red Sansa imagined it may have been dyed from a persons blood.

Sansa thought she might expel the contents of her breakfast if she had to look at him any longer. Robb shifted slightly, and her view was obscured, her brother taking the brunt of Joffreys snarl. Next to her, Wylla took her hand in hers, squeezing lightly.

She turned her head, looking to her sister instead.

Aryas face was blank, her features conveying no emotion except that of monotony as she watched the red wheelhouse come to a stop. It seemed as if she was simply welcoming a new maid into the household, and not the king and his court.

Sansas throat tightened as a black horse approached, the king on its back.

Custom dictated that they all kneel, and so Winterfell dropped to a knee as King Robert bumbled from his horse. He used to be handsome, she knew, with jet black hair and eyes blue like the sky.

Though the sky was overcast today, and King Robert was no more than a shadow of his former glory.

Sansa could hear the wheelhouse opening, and she saw from her place on the ground the deep red skirts of Queen Cersei sweep across the floor, and the dainty feet of Myrcella exit the carriage. _Tommen must have ridden,_ she thought, and Sansa could almost imagine the young boy riding with a cat perched on his shoulder.

Her stomach turned as the king approached her father, and with a simple motion of his hand, Winterfell was up on its feet once more.

Sansa took her sisters hand in hers, and Arya gripped back with such ferocity that she feared she would break it. Queen Cersei watched them, and Sansa saw a darkness in her eyes as she raked them both up and down.

She tilted her chin up, willing her spine to be made of iron.

"Ned!" The kings voice boomed out, rattling against the stones and startling birds in their nests. Sansa presumed they would likely be able to hear his voice in the crypts.

"Robert." Her father greeted back, nodding his head differentially, and turning the King to greet his mother (whom he kissed on the cheek), then Robb (whose hand he shook), then Wylla (who settled for a deep curtsey), and then herself.

"And this is my eldest daughter, whom you have already met."

"Ah, Lady Sansa!" The king greeted, and Sansa forced herself to smile back at him, dropping into a low curtsey. "Your grace," she said, "it is a pleasure to see you again." He grunted at her, though she assumed it was polite.

"And this," her father started, and Sansa could see the courtyard tense, watching with baited breath as Arya gripped her hand tighter, "is-"

"Lyanna." King Robert breathed out, his eyes wide and Sansa resisted the urge to pull her sister behind her, shielding her from his leering gaze.

"No." Her fathers voice was sharp, yet Sansa knew there was not much else he could do but watch as his daughter become the obsession of a brutish man, a powerful king, helpless like the rest of them. "This is my daughter, Robert, Arya."

It seemed as if the king could not hear her father, or was intent on ignoring him for he drew his hand upwards, and towards Aryas face.

Winterfell observed in horror as he drew his finger down her cheek, caressing her as if she were his to own.

Aryas grip on her hand became numbing, and Sansa saw her face turn ashen and white. From the corner of her eye she spied Queen Cersie, fury and hatred painted upon her beautiful features. She could see her mothers eyes, wide and fearful, and she could see Wylla with her hand in Robbs, seemingly pulling him back.

It was at that very moment, when Sansa was beginning to notice his hand moving lower, did she decide to speak.

"Your grace?" Her voice seemed to cut through the frigid air, and she noticed with relief his hand dropping back to his side. "I was wondering if the Princess Myrcella would like to join myself and my sisters for lunch in the gardens?"

He grunted at her, "If you must." Sansa wondered if he had taken some lessons in courtesy, for he was much politer than when she had last seen him.

Her father moved onto Bran, and introduced him. She saw Arya let go of a breath she was holding, her face pale and her hand clammy in Sansas.

And though the king was busy talking with her father, she could see him staring at her sister, his gaze predatory and lustful. She noted the Queen reluctantly speaking with her mother, yet the ire on her face had not washed away.

Sansa turned her eyes back to the gate, hoping and wishing to every god above another rider would come through.

None did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roberts kinda nasty inni  
> also gendrys love language is gift giving. i’m taking no criticism  
> also also, this is a bit short, but it’s a build up chapter so ;)  
> the ball is coming up soon, and hopefully we will see our mans !! peep the tags guys, peep the tags  
> as always, thank you all for reading and please comment n lmk what u think !!


	8. but be real and just jump

_Dear Gendry,_

_The king has came to Winterfell, and with him, my love, the end of me._

_I suppose some part of me was reluctant to believe fathers worries, for surely I do not look that much like Lyanna - she was known as the most beautiful woman in Westeros for a time, and all I was known as was Arya Horseface. A small part of me had thought that maybe, just maybe, they were wrong._

_The king has came to Winterfell, and they were right._

_My love, I am for once happy that you are not here, for I know that if you had witnessed his behaviour in the courtyard, you would be on trial for regicide._

_He whispered the name Lyanna, and I had thought I was going to throw up on his shoes there and then. I could feel every eye on me, and Queen Cersei looked as if she wanted to flay me and wear my skin as a dress._

_Then, he began to touch me._

_I can already see you with your hammer in your hand, Gendry, and I will tell you now to put it down (but not out of reach.)_

_He, for lack of a better word, began to caress my face, and nobody could stop him. I feel disgusting, my love, I feel dirty just from that one touch. ~~I wish I could run him through with needle.~~_

_Sansa, though, managed to get his attention off of me, if only for a second. I am becoming closer with my sister, I will admit, and she does seem truly sorry for all that she has inflicted. She wants to help me, and I need her._

_I need you._

_We had lunch in the gardens with Wylla and Princess Myrcella (who is a lovely girl, I was right in my prior assumptions) and the incident was not forgotten, but ignored. When I went to my chambers, however, I had to convince Lyra not commit regicide either._

_(I swear, bull, if I did not know any better I would think you two share blood.)_

_There is something to be said about the kings callous nature, and I wonder how many women have had to endure his hands touching them, unable to say no because he is the king. I wonder how many women have been left with children from a man they did not even want near them. How many women have had husbands leave them due to him believing he has a right to touch them._

_It is a mans word we live in, and it is a gross injustice._

_I am deathly afraid my love, and I can foresee the end coming at the ball tonight. Father and King Robert have been talking in his solar for most of the day, and I can only presume the worst. I know father would never let anything happen to me, but if the king says it, it must be done._

_The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives._

_I can only hope I will not die alone._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya_

Lyras deft fingers done up the buttons of her gown, neatly pressing her hands upon the silk ribbon tied around her waist. Arya watched her in the mirror, feeling as if she was watching someone else. The gown was made of a deep grey, with a lace skirt overtop. Arya trailed a finger along the delicate lace, resting on her chest.

"You look beautiful, my lady."

She did not feel it.

Arya nodded her thanks to Lyra in the mirror, the young girl smiling back at her, though it was strained and pulling at the edges. She put on her gloves, Lyra smoothing out any creases, fixing her hair.

"Lyra." Her voice seemed to echo around the silent room, and the small girls head whipped up, looking at her with fear in her eyes. Arya smiled at her, tinged with sadness, as she stroked the young maids hair. "No matter what happens tonight, you must not interfere."

"I know," she started, cutting off Lyras interjection, "I know." Lyras lip quivered, and she ducked her head. "I love you, little one, and I will not see you get hurt." She pulled Lyra into her chest, stroking her hair as she wept, tears staining white lace.

Arya had managed to compose herself in time for the ball, Brans arm linked through hers, his grey coat matching her dress. He wore their sigil proudly, and Arya could hear Nymeria howl in the distance. They stood outside the doors, Sansa and Lord Harrold in front of them.

Sansas dress was a deep emerald green, fashioned in the style of the South with a larger skirt and a lower neckline. She wore jewels with the same emerald embedded within them, and though her posture was impeccable, Arya could see her fingers twitching nervously.

Her sister turned to look at her, nodding her head resolutely. Arya thought she looked strangely excited, or perhaps apprehensive, she could not tell.

"We're due to go in soon." Bran whispered, leaning down slightly. Arya nodded at him, gripping tighter onto his arm. "Nothings going to happen to you," he said, and she found herself smiling at his naivety, "I won't let him touch you."

She looked up at him, "You won't have a choice."

The doors swung open, and House Stark began their descent into the ballroom

Their presentation went fast, Winterfell cheering boisterously at their names calling, the Vales progress not far behind and the kings court slightly more subdued. Arya and Bran went to their place at the table, Bran pulling out her seat much to her annoyance.

"I'm a woman, not inept." She scowled, reluctantly taking a seat, smoothing her skirts. She observed the room, pushing down the rising nausea as she looked to the great doors she had just walked out of. Once they were seated, and the crowd had settled, did the announcer open his mouth again.

Aryas hands fisted into her dress.

"Presenting his royal highness, King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of Westeros, Protector of the Realm, the Stag King! Escorting his wife, Queen Cersei Baratheon."

The ballroom stood, and the doors swung open.

King Robert and Queen Cersei were stood in royal glory, not touching one another besides a minimal hand on the elbow. The latter was wearing a dress of red silk, golden jewels dripping from her neck and her arms, a golden crown on her head. She had a look of disinterest on her face, her eyes cold as the North itself.

The king had a large grin on his face, and his cheeks were red. Arya would wager that he had been drinking for some time now, his eyes were glassy though his clothes miraculously were not rumpled. He scanned the room, and Arya pushed down the bile rising in her throat.

The announcer presented the rest of the royal family, and they descended the staircase. Arya saw Sansa give her a smile, oddly knowing and not yet concerned, though Arya knew all their efforts would be futile. The king was descending the staircase, and coming straight towards her.

Outside, a lone rider entered through the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really stretching this out huh  
> also lyra n gendry are 100% down with treason. u didnt hear tht from me tho  
> also quick q, would u rather have a grand dramatic reunion or a small dramatic reunion ? i dont mind either way, but i would like to know what yall think.  
> also also, look at sansas emotions in this chap ;)  
> as always, thank u for reading and please comment n lmk what u think !!!


	9. see life as a worthy opponent

The ballroom was alight with the hush whisper of gossip, the swish of skirts as the dancing commenced, and the sipping of wine, most usually accompanied with the former and shared over the candelabra on the tables.

Arya pushed down the churning in her stomach, focusing on staying as far to the side of the room as possible, watching keenly for the large presence in the room. She could feel their eyes on her, but she continued to sip at her drink.

Sansa was leading the dances, yet Arya noticed her sisters eyes shifting to the doors, slight worry pinching at her features. It was quickly smoothed out, though, when Lord Hardyng took her hand once more. He leaned in to whisper something seemingly amusing in her ear for Sansa giggled lightly, throwing her head back, her red hair catching the light.

Arya downed the rest of her drink, placing the glass on the table quite heavily.

Her stomach flipped and turned, and she braced herself upon the back of the chair, breathing in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. She heard footsteps behind her, and she forced herself to relax, the steps too light and sure-footed to be the king.

"Arya," Brans voice sounded out behind her, his hand on her back, "are you alright?"

She exhaled, looking up into her brothers Tully blue eyes, and she wanted to cry because it was wrong, the shade was wrong. There was a fog in her mind, and Arya wished to simply leave, run away and find Gendry, never see the king again. She wanted desperately to see the right shade once again.

"Yes," she replied, taking his hand and patting it, "i'm fine, brother." There was a lull in the music, and Arya saw the dancers ready themselves for yet another round. "Would you care to dance with your elder sister, Bran?"

Her little brother gave her a cheeky smile, though Arya could see him assess the room, his eyes darting from person to person. Bran took her hand, leading her towards the floor and the music changed to an upbeat Northern dance, and for the first time that night, Aryas stomach settled and she smiled all throughout the song.

Bran spun her wildly, lifting her in the air and linking their arms together. Arya let herself laugh freely once they finished, spying Sansa watching her with a fondness on her features, and her father looking as if he had seen a ghost. She shook their stares off, matching Brans exaggerated bow with her own exaggerated curtsey.

There was a pause in attention, the ballroom going quiet and low, lords and ladies speaking in hushed tones, eagle sharp eyes observing the spectacle before them. King Robert had seemingly watched the dance with great interest, wetting his lips with wine. Arya kept her back turned, her cheeks flushed from dancing.

The room fell mute as King Robert stood, shoving a serving girl from his lap and making his way to the open floor, and Arya felt the bile rise in her throat once more. She saw her brothers face harden, and Sansa glance quickly at the doors, yet she knew there was not much to be done.

Arya pressed her hand against her leg, feeling the cold metal of her dagger through the fabric.

If she were going to die, Arya supposed that taking the king with her would not be too bad.

She heard the heavy, stumbling footsteps of the king echo from behind her, and the more sturdy steps of her fathers not far behind. Though Arya could not see her, she would wager that the queen was positively furious, and perhaps Arya should care yet all she could feel was cold, numbing fear.

The footsteps ceased, and a hand came to rest on her shoulder, fingers digging harshly into her skin. Bran took a step forward, but Arya placed a hand up, a silent signal of surrender. The dagger on her leg pressed into her skin, an invisible kiss of danger.

 _In a way,_ she thought, turning around slowly when the kings grip tightened, _he's still here to protect me._

Arya turned fully, tilting her chin up, willing herself to be as sharp as her blades edge, _we protect each other._ She knew, within her soul, that she would do as the king asked if it meant to protect Gendry, to protect her family.

Though, the king posed no threat in that sense, at the very least.

His eyes were glassy, and his face was a wine shade of red. His breath was heavy, and Arya felt a pang of sadness for every woman he had done this to, only to be spat at and called a whore afterwards. She wondered, as his other hand began to make way to her hip, if she would be called one too.

She watched her father over the kings shoulder, and her mother standing next to him, her eyes sad and fearful yet, resigned too. Arya knew the feeling well.

Nobody can say no to the king; if he says it, it must be done.

His hand gripped at her hip, and his breath hit her hair. Arya resisted the urge to throw up, instead, finding solace in the sharp press of her blade. "Lyanna," he whispered, though it echoed throughout the room. "you've came back to me." Her mother had her hand on her fathers chest, but it was limp, seemingly non-committal.

She felt his hand move further from her hip, making way to her back and travelling lower. It was just then, as his hand came to grip at her arse did the band strum up another tune, drawing the attention of the room. Arya used the distraction to her advantage, pulling away from the drunken king and fleeing to her parents, her mother taking her into her arms.

Her mother pressed her closer to her chest, and Arya saw from the corner of her eye Wylla standing next to the band, sending her a sympathetic smile. Arya tightened her hold on her mother, wishing vehemently that she could take the dagger from her leg and stick it in his jugular.

 _If it weren't treason,_ she thought, _he would be dead right now._

"I don't bloody care!" The kings voice boomed over the song, and Arya turned in her mothers arms, watching with her head still on her chest the scene in front of her. The king was red in the face, and Queen Cersei was heading towards him at a rapid pace. Her father stood strong in his stance, a chill spreading through the air.

"She's my _daughter,_ Robert." Arya shivered, burrowing further into her mothers warmth, "And you are married." Her father hissed, his voice carrying throughout the room. Queen Cersei stopped in her path, watching with narrowed eyes. Arya saw Prince Joffrey look to his father with a murderous glare, though there was thinly veiled amusement on his face.

"Not for long!"

The room stilled, and Aryas mother tensed, pulling her impossibly close. _He's a fool,_ Queen Cerseis face had went white, and Ser Jaimes hand rested upon his swords hilt, _a bloody fool._

"Robert..." Her father warned, the band still playing in the background. Arya looked for Bran in the crowd, but she could not find him. Distantly, she hoped that Lyra had not caught wind of the situation.

"No, Ned," the king yelled, "if I say it, it will be done!" He gestured to the queen, who was looking increasingly more angry, "I will not be married to that whore any longer! Not when my Lyanna has come to me again!"

 _I am not Lyanna,_ she drew away from her mother, standing to her side instead, gripping her hand. _I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. I am not Lyanna._

His words caused a fury, Ser Jaime surging forward, only to be stopped by the Lord Tyrion. Queen Cersei looked as if she wanted to geld him and hang him for all to see, and the lord and ladies were a flurry of whispers. An annulment of the king and queen was unheard of, and to be declared so publicly had never been done before.

"Your grace," Aryas head whipped to her sister, who glided across the room, her emeralds catching the candlelight, "I cannot comment on your wish for an annulment from Queen Cersei, nor can I comment on why," Sansa threw a pointed stare at Ser Jaime, "but I will tell you, that you will not be able to marry my _sister_ regardless."

Sansa continued before the king could interject, "She is already married, you grace, wedded and bedded."

_What?_

"Nobody else knows, your grace, besides myself and my brother Bran for we were witness to the ceremony." Aryas grip on her mothers hand slackened, "We were fearful of telling you for it was a secret ceremony, however I now know that it cannot remain a secret any longer."

Sansa turned to her, looking at her with sorrowful eyes, "I am sorry, sister." Arya nodded in reply, her mouth as dry as the Dothraki sea, her mind reeling from the weight of Sansas words. The king was agape, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish.

Perhaps Arya would have laughed, if she weren't so confused.

"My brother, Bran, has gone to fetch Aryas husband, so you may see the truth to my words."

The music had ceased, the room so silent a pin dropping would echo throughout. The queen had a glass of wine in her hand, and Ser Jaime was watching her with worry. Arya glanced at her father, who to her surprise did not look confused but instead, he wore a challenge on his face.

Aryas heart was thrumming so loud she feared it might burst out of her chest, her stomach churning violently. The doors swung open, revealing Bran smiling bright and wide and to his side was a tall man, clad in a black coat, with hair as dark as coal and soot on his cheek.

"Gendry." She whispered, her feet already taking her to the stairs, the whispers of 'Robert' and 'Lyanna' naught but wind in her ears. She saw him rush down the stairs, and Arya felt the sting of tears burn her eyes.

They collided, and Arya thought that this was what the poets talked of. _My love is selfish,_ she recalled, _I cannot breathe without you._

Gendrys arms were wrapped around her waist, her feet dangling in the air, her nose buried in his neck. It was as if the world were right again, as if his very being could end wars and bring rain during a drought.

 _Yes,_ she thought, inhaling his scent of metal and smoke, _this is what the poets meant._

"Arya." He mumbled, his voice sending shivers down her spine as he set her on her feet, and his blue eyes met hers, the right shade. He looked down at her with reverence, and his thumb came up to wipe away tears she hadn't known had fallen. The skin was calloused and hard against her cheek, and she leant into his touch eagerly.

She could faintly hear her sister speak, and her fathers voice soon joined yet all Arya could focus on was the man in front of her, looking at her with such devotion. She leant up on her tiptoes, and cupped his face in her hands, delicately wiping the soot from his cheek.

When they kissed, Arya felt as if she had come home, her heart beating in her chest once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!  
> this chapter was actually so hard for me to write omg, i was constantly changing my mind and what i wanted to do and how i wanted it to play out. in the end, this is what i got n im not mad at it ! it could be better, but i like it at the very least  
> (also one of these days arya is finally going to throw up, and i think she needs to at this point ngl, this canny be healthy)  
> theres around 2-3 chapters left, meaning we'll get some actual gendrya in here lmao  
> and as pamela shipman once said, 'its all the drama mick, i just love it!'  
> as always, thank you all so much for reading and please comment to lmk what u think !! i love every comment u all leave, and i look forward to reading them every time <3


	10. clothe yourself in beauty untold

_Dear Gendry,_

_There is a group of magpies perched outside the window, four I believe. They aren't singing, no, instead they're just sitting there, bathing in the moonlight. The night is calm, all the previous excitement from the ball faded into the air. Not a sound can be heard._

_Besides, of course, your obnoxious snoring._

_I swear, bull, you've gotten louder! I did not think it was possible, yet here we are, your snores quite possibly being heard throughout the entirety of Winterfell. Once, I would be worried of someone realising you were here, but now I have nothing to fear._

_(I hate to thank Sansa, but I must thank Sansa. I still cannot believe it was her who orchestrated this all. Remind me to get her lemon cakes, my love.)_

_I could scarcely believe my eyes when you walked through those doors, and even when I was in your arms I was reluctant to believe it. I thought I may wake up any second, with nothing but air in my arms._

_Yet here we are, you in my bed, in Winterfell and your snores echoing throughout the room._

_I find I do not mind the snores anymore. They are, to me, simply more physical proof of your presence. You are not a figment of my imagination, a dream to wake up from, you are real. You are real, you are here._

_So why am I writing a letter as if you are not?_

_I find a simple sort of solace in writing these letters, my love. A state of serenity in which I can write my thoughts without being judged. I wonder what it must say about us, that it is to you whom these letters are addressed?_

_I have always felt most calm in your presence._

_I love you most ardently, Gendry, and I thank the Gods for bringing you back to me._

_(And Sansa. And Bran. And my father, I suppose. Lots of people to thank.)_

_I cannot wait until morning comes, and Lyra becomes aware of your presence. To tell you the truth, I dismissed her for the evening out of fear for what may occur - I did not want her to have to see anything unsavoury. The poor girl would surly be imprisoned for attempted murder._

_Though the evening did not play out like I expected it to, and I find myself excited for when Lyra comes to bring our breakfast._

_(That is not to say 'unsavoury' activities did not take place, I believe the scratches on your back and the love bites covering my body are enough proof of that. You have certainly not lost your touch, my love.)_

_I do find myself wondering, though, of what exactly occurred after we left the ballroom. The king seems to want an annulment, as he so publicly declared. The question is, why? Queen Cersei is not a good queen, by any means, but she has done her duty prudently._

_Unless, of course, there are things that we do not know of._

_Sansa must, for she is much more shrewd than she was before her trip South, and she seems to be much more protective also. I care for my sister dearly, especially since her apology, yet I can admit that her vindictive side is still there._

_Of course, we both know that more than most._

_I cannot even begin to fathom what my father did after we left, that being, if he did anything._

_The king is his best friend, his brother, but I am his daughter._

_We will find out on the morrow, and anyways, it is of no matter, not anymore, not when you are in my bed, snoring as if your life depends upon it. My heart is beating once more, my love, as I lay in your arms I come to life. You are my great love, and I can love no other the way I love you._

_Ever yours,_

_Arya._

"Arry?" Gendrys voice sounded from behind her, gravelly and low as she turned, watching appreciatively as he sat up, his bare chest on show. Arya wetted her lip with her tongue, heat pooling in her belly. She drew her eyes back to his face, a smirk on his lips.

"C'mere." He said, opening his arms wide and Arya quickly stood, rushing to the bed. She dived into his arms, situating her head on his chest, above his heart. One hand went to her hair, the other to her back, hardened fingers gently caressing her skin.

She sighed against his skin, melting into his warmth. Her eyes were beginning to droop as he spoke.

"How could you think I would ever love someone else?" His voice was hoarse, and Aryas eyes glanced upwards, his jaw was clenched, the muscles ticking slightly. She drew her hand up, slowly cupping his face, tracing his jaw with her thumb.

He relaxed into her touch, his jaw softening. Aryas eyebrows knitted together, "What do you mean?" Gendry had closed his eyes as her fingers glided across his face, but opened them at her question, his blue gaze piercing her.

"In one of yer letters," he said, tightening his grip, "you said that you imagined me 'appy, an' that it was with another woman." Aryas heart missed a beat, _how did he get that letter?_ Gendry must have saw the look on her face, "Sansa sent me a letter, an' she sent three o' yours too."

He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Yer my only girl, Arry. I dun think I can be properly 'appy without ya." Gently, he held her cheek in her palm, his large hand encompassing most of her head. "I love you, Arry, only you."

Arya lent up, pressing her lips against his, savouring the feeling of him all around her. Kissing Gendry, Arya decided, was like coming home after a storm. Knowing you were safe, secure, knowing that there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"What other letters did Sansa send you?" She asked, slightly breathless.

"Tha' one," he replied, "the other where ya kneed some lord in his dick," Arya giggled at the grin on his face, "then the one about the king."

Arya shuddered as he listed the last letter, and Gendry quickly flipped her over, snatching the breath from her lungs quite effectively. He loomed over her, his large frame trapping her yet Arya did not feel scared, or encased. Instead, a flush of red hit her cheeks, an ache between her thighs.

Gendry dipped down, kissing her rough yet there was love between his lips, slipping out with his tongue. Arya eagerly reciprocated, lips parted and swollen when he pulled back. "I should kill 'im," he whispered, "I should kill 'im for what he fuckin' did."

Slowly, Arya wound her arms around his neck, "I know." She said, kissing him soft, "I want him dead too, bull, but there is too much to lose."

She ran her fingers through the short hairs on the nape of his neck, "He won't take us away from each other." She pulled him closer to her, their breath mingling, "I won't let him."

Gendry nodded, kissing her hard enough to bruise, and when she thought he was pulling away, he nipped at her bottom lip, drawing blood. He ran his tongue over it, catching the red beads falling.

Arya went boneless, the ache between her thighs pulsating violently. She pressed her body into his, arching her neck as he placed wet, hot kisses onto her skin. Gendry made his way downwards, leaving his mark on her in the form of large love bites, biting at her lightly to make her shiver.

He stopped at the space between her breasts, looking up through his lashes with dark eyes, blue swallowed up by black. Her chest was heaving already, and she knew her blush had made its way over her body. Gendry smirked at her, skimming his tongue over a love bite he had left earlier in the night.

_Fucking bastard._

Gendry looked up at her once more, this time in silent question. Arya nodded, perhaps too eagerly for the way he chuckled, before turning his eyes back to her body. He pressed a small kiss, one of love and adoration before one hand went to grip her hip, and the other met her breast.

For once, Arya did not worry about being heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, but this time its just gendrya :') my babies are reunited  
> i say, as if i am not the one who separated them  
> coming up, lyra delivers breakfast and we see the fallout from the ball  
> as always, thank you all so much for reading and please comment n lmk what u think !!! <3


	11. you are absent of cause or excuse

A knock sounded at the door, and Arya smiled from her place on Gendrys chest, shaking him awake before putting a finger to her lips, pointing to the door. He nodded in understanding, slightly bleary-eyed.

"One second Lyra!" She called, pulling on her nightdress, gesturing to Gendry to get dressed also and pushing him towards the washroom. Arya smoothed her hair down, grabbing a robe to cover the abysmal state of her neck before opening the door, Lyra immediately walking in.

"My lady!" She cried, holding onto her arms, "I was so worried, I had heard something happened at the ball, but nobody would tell me anything!"

The young girl shook her head, narrowing her eyes, "I suspect there must be a plot against me, my lady, most likely led by that wench Tracy, for none of them would even let me know the littlest of details! Of course, they told me you were alright, but -"

"Lyra," Arya said, an eyebrow raised, "what have I told you about insulting your fellow maids, and in such a way?"

Lyra sighed, throwing her head back dramatically, "But she is my lady! Tracy is a nasty, spiteful girl, I do not see what Carsen saw in her quite frankly." She seemed to regain herself, quickly running her eyes over Aryas body, "What happened, my lady? Is everything alright?"

"Lyra," Arya smiled, "everything is perfect."

"How so, my lady?" She questioned, before letting out a little gasp, dropping her voice to a whisper, eyes wide, "Is the king dead?"

Arya did not get a chance to reply, for at that moment a chuckle sounded out around the room, Gendry coming towards them. "You were right, m'lady," he wrapped an arm around her waist, "we do act alike." Gendry placed a kiss onto her hair, before turning to Lyra with a small smile.

"Hello, Lyra."

The young maid let out an unbecoming squeak, before launching herself at Gendry with such force he staggered back on his feet. He quickly balanced himself, wrapping his arms around the girl, laughing and spinning her around. Arya watched the scene with a smile and misty eyes.

He dropped Lyra to her feet, ruffling her hair, chuckling as she ducked. She turned to Arya with an agape expression, and she nodded, "He's here for good, Lyra."

She turned to Gendry, then Arya, then Gendry and she bounced between the two of them before settling on Arya, hopefulness written on her face. "Truly, my lady?"

"Truly, Lrya."

Lyra squealed, dragging Gendry to Arya and hugging them both fiercely, her small arms stretching as far as she could make them. Arya felt warmth bloom in her chest, fluttering throughout her body.

Lyras girlish voice sounded out, "Carsen is going to be so jealous I got to see you first."

Arya felt the vibrations from Gendrys laugh echo through her as they pulled back, Lyras smile taking over her entire face. "Oh!" She said, quickly reaching into Aryas drawers, "You have been requested to break you fast with the family, my lady, and the royal family."

Gendry tensed next to her, and she snaked her arm around her bicep, squeezing slightly. "Lyra," she said, "Gendry will need clothes for breakfast, perhaps you could inquire with Robb to get him some?"

"Of course, my lady," she frowned, "but who is to help you dress?"

"I'm sure I can manage, Lyra," Arya replied, making her way to her drawers, "and besides, I have Gendry to help."

"Right away, my lady." Lyra smiled at them both, giving them lingering hugs before shutting the door behind her, silence falling over the two of them. Arya turned to Gendry, wrapping her arms around his waist, placing her chin on his chest.

He looked down at her, smiling softly, before kissing her just as soft. "We 'ave to get ya somethin' ta cover yer neck, love." He ran a finger across her throat, her robe slipping off at the shoulder, and Gendry stilled, his eyes trained on the exposed skin.

It wasn't lust in his eyes, no, it was rage.

Arya frowned, tilting her head down, her breath catching at the ugly, purple finger-shaped bruises marring her skin.

"I'll kill 'im," he growled, his eyes unwavering from the bruises, "I'll fuckin' kill 'im."

Arya grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, "We'll kill him." She promised, moving her hands to cup his face, "If he ever goes near us again, my love, we'll kill him together."

Gendry watched her with his ocean gaze, rough seas bottled up in his eyes, lightning striking through the blue, before he kissed her with intense fervour. His hands gripped her hips, and hers went to his hair. They pulled away breathless, Gendry lighting up suddenly.

"I 'ave a gift for ya." He said, a grin on his face as he ran to his bag, taking out something wrapped in cloth. Arya watched with amusement as he handled it with great care, walking back to her at a snail pace. Gently, he placed the gift in her waiting hands.

She unwrapped the gift, letting the cloth fall to the floor. Aryas breath was snatched away, in her hands the most beautiful dagger she had ever seen. She held it tentatively, scared to wield such beauty in her hands.

"Gendry.." She trailed off, awe colouring her voice, her eyes meeting his.

"Do you like it?" Apprehension was written all over his face, and Arya was incredulous at the thought. "Like it? Gendry this is - it's," she looked up at him again, "it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I made it in your image, m'lady."

Once, Arya might have hit him for saying such a thing, called him stupid and secretly wondered how he could say such cruel things. Now, though, as the man she loved looked at her with such devotion, as she held the labour of his love in her hands, Arya was inclined to believe him.

They dressed quickly, Arya wearing her needle on one side of her hip, her new dagger on the other, and her old dagger on her leg. Gendry wore Robbs clothes, though Arya could see his muscles straining with every movement. She had to tear her eyes away, a blush rising to her cheeks.

The both of them lingered outside the private dining room, Arya taking Gendrys hand in hers, letting the weight of his hand ground her. "Well," she said, "shall we enter, _husband?"_

"As you command, _wife."_

Arya quite liked the way the word rolled off his tongue, and she found herself wishing it were real.

 _Soon,_ she decided, pushing open the doors, _soon._

The doors swung open, and Arya made her way through with Gendrys hand clasped in hers. The table was elaborately done, with a yellow silk tablecloth, stags running through it. Her father sat at one end, the king at the other.

It seems, she thought, taking a seat next to Sansa, Gendry sitting next to her besides Bran, that we are late.

"My apologies," she said, lying the napkin on her lap, "we seem to have lost track of time." Arya noticed Gendry tucking his napkin into his collar, heeding the advice she had given him just moments before.

Her mother smiled at her, though it was strained at the sides, her eyes lingering on her weapons. "It is not a problem, sweetling, the servants will be coming shortly, you have not missed anything."

Arya nodded her thanks, taking the moment to observe the drawing room, letting the mindless chatter wash over her. She noted Queen Cersei did not say anything, her face pale and ashen, and the younger Lord Tyrion seemed to be in jovial spirits. Ser Jaime, though, was not to be found.

She avoided looking at the king, instead, turning her head to converse with Sansa. Bran and Rickon were engaging Gendry in one of their playful arguments, so she spoke in good faith that he would be alright.

"Sansa." She greeted, tilting her head.

"Arya." Sansa smiled at her, her eyes pointedly glancing at Gendry.

Arya smiled at her, taking her hand under the table, "Thank you." She whispered, sincerity coating her words. Sansa simply smiled at her in return, squeezing her hand, "It was the least I could do." Her brows knitted together, "Especially after I all did."

"You have made up for it, Sansa." The servants walked in, with tea, water and wine, "In more ways than one."

The maids set down their teacups, Arya smiling appreciatively at them, "Thank you, Marybel." The girl blushed, ducking her head and murmuring her thanks. Arya reached forward, though her hand stilled, another drink catching her eye.

"Coffee?" She turned to her mother, who was watching her with a true smile, nodding her head. "I had it brought in," she explained, "I thought you may like to have it again."

Arya swallowed down the lump in her throat, Gendrys hand coming to rest on her thigh, "Thank you, mother." She poured the coffee into her cup, pouring for Gendry also. The servants came in once more, this time their arms laden with trays of steaming food.

Her mouth watered as hot bread was placed in front of her, brioche, eggs, black pudding, sausage, bacon, a variety of cheeses, spreads, honey cakes and plum cakes all accompanied. Her mother smiled as it was all placed on the table. "Please," she said, "let us eat."

The reaction was instant, the families reaching forward. Gendry reached for two honey cakes, placing them on her plate as she herself went for the eggs, spooning them onto their individual plates. Gendry got bread, berry jam and cheese for them whilst she got bacon and plum cakes.

She left the sausages alone, knowing they would turn her stomach. Gendry shot her a confused look as she waved them away, his brows furrowed as he got a painful look on his face, the look he usually got when deep in thought.

They ate in relative peace, though Arya could not stop the nauseous feeling bubbling up in her throat. It was only a matter of time, she knew, before everything would spill over.

Her father set his cutlery down, fixing the king across from him with a pointed stare and cleared his throat, the conversation dying within an instant. The kings face was a deep red, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Robert," her father spoke with a calm tone yet there was an undercurrent of ice striking through it, "you are a guest in my home, and your behaviour last night was _unacceptable."_

Arya held her breath, Gendrys hand still resting on her thigh. "My daughter is a married woman, your grace, but irrespective of that, she is a lady of noble birth and should not be subject to such a manner."

He exhaled, "I understand you were in your cups, but I will warn you Robert, if such a thing were to happen again, if my daughter and her husband were to be put in _any_ situation of a precarious type," his eyes were pure, hard steel, "you will lose my favour, and the Norths favour for years to come."

 _The North remembers,_ she linked her hand with Gendrys, keeping her eyes on her father.

Arya expected King Robert to yell, to scream and throw and show them what _Ours is the Fury_ truly meant. Instead, though, he nodded as if he were a child scolded.

 _My father is perhaps the only person who can get away with such a blatant threat of treason,_ she mused, watching as her father nodded back.

"Now," he said, "I think it is time, Robert."

That garnered a smile from the king, who stood up and turned to his wife. "Kingsguard," he proclaimed, his voice booming and Arya saw Prince Joffrey tense, if for a second, before his ever-present smirk came onto his lips, "seize the Lady Cersei."

There was a hesitation, before the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard - Ser Barristan Selmy - stalked forward, Queen Cersei jumping from her seat in protest. There was mass mayhem, the queen yelling and screaming, Prince Joffrey threatening his father, spit flying. Ser Barristan was attempting to arrest the queen, whilst Aryas family was whispering hurriedly and above it all King Roberts jovial laughter could be heard.

Arya gripped Gendrys hand tighter, her mind feeling out of sorts from the announcement.

"Lady Cersei," her fathers voice cut through, silencing the room. The queen looked to him with tears in her eyes, yet her face was red with anger, her mouth twisted into an ugly snarl. "By decree of King Robert, the first of his name, the king of the seven kingdoms, you are to be arrested and tried on charges of treason, infidelity and incest."

Her mother gasped, and Arya turned to Sansa who was watching the scene with plain to see smugness. There was a gleam in her sisters blue eyes, and Arya felt she may throw up. King Robert continued to laugh, the words 'whore' and 'slut' leaving his mouth.

Ser Barristan grabbed Queen Cerseis shoulder, and Arya knew she was to be confined to her chambers until the trial. The royal children were escorted out also, Prince Joffreys face flashing with ire, demanding his uncle be brought to him, demanding his grandfather be told of this.

His cries of protest faded, the door shutting behind him with a deafening thud.

"Well," Lord Tyrion spoke, reaching for another honey cake, "that was eventful."

Arya let go of Gendrys hand, turned to the side and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm  
> not sure how i feel abt this one, i wont lie. a lot happens, but it also feels like nothing happened. at least to me, but ig i wrote it so im overly critical lmao  
> anyways, next up is some clarification, some reveals and maybe something else ;)  
> as always, thank you all so much for reading n please comment n lmk what u think !!!


	12. hear those bells ring deep in the soul

Arya sat with her sister, the flames casting a warm glow from the fireplace, casting an orange huge upon Sansas face. Her book sat in her lap, whilst Sansas slim fingers held a needle and embroidery hoop.

The crackling of the logs set their scene, Sansas needle making a puncture sound as it pierced the fabric. Arya bit her lip, glancing once more to her sister.

"Arya," she spoke, the thread pulling through the hole, "do you wish to ask me something?" Sansa looked up from her hoop, her blue gaze piercing Aryas soul as her needle pierced the fabric, the pulling sound echoing through the air. "Or do you wish to keep staring at me?"

Arya cleared her throat, "I do, as a matter of fact." She met her sisters stare, an eyebrow raised, "Did you know what would occur at breakfast? Did you know of the queen?"

Sansa raised a brow back, "I had my assumptions but," she set the hoop down, "surely you could not expect me of knowing such a thing?"

"Because," she continued, "if I knew of it, and did not inform the king, then it would be treason, would it not?"

Arya smiled, "Then we should be thankful that you were too blinded to see so."

Sansa smiled in return, the corner of her mouth turning up. She leant back, "Where is your husband, dear sister?"

"Gendry," she said, placing her book on the side table, "is at the smithy," Arya felt herself soften involuntarily, "where he usually is." She laid her hands in her lap, playing with her skirts, picking at loose threads.

"Perhaps," Sansa suggested, "you make him your true husband, in front of the Gods." Her sister threw her a pointed stare, before reaching forward to the small table in front of the fire, pouring the both of them tea. She placed the cup in Aryas hands, her eyes shifting downwards.

"Have you had it confirmed yet?" She asked, taking a sip.

Arya sighed, her head beginning to pulsate, "No." She replied, her teeth catching her lip, "I hadn't even thought it a possibility until you mentioned it." Her hands went to her stomach, and though it was still flat Arya took comfort in knowing what was there.

 _My baby,_ she thought, her mind conjuring images of little blue-eyed babes, _our baby._

"I'm scared, Sansa." Aryas voice came out small, timid against the roar of the hearth. She watched Sansa soften as she leant over, placing a delicate hand on her knee. "The king," she continued, gulping down the lump in her throat, "if what you say about Gendry is true, then the king will need an heir."

Sansa squeezed her knee, going to interject. "No," she said, shaking her head, "it won't matter if he says no, the king can do what he likes anyways." Arya looked up at Sansa, her elder sister who was once naive and had a head filled with air, now strong and smart. "And my child won't have any say."

"Arya," Sansas voice was sweet as honey, "I would never let that happen, you must know that."

"You will not have a say, sister," Arya smiled, though it was weak and shaky, "the king will need an heir if the queen is found guilty, and Gendry is his eldest son if all things are to be true."

Sansa shook her head, her red tresses falling like waves, "The Kingdom will never accept a bastard on the throne, legitimised or not." Arya saw her sisters mind working, warping and shaping ideas like Gendry would his steel. "Besides," she said, "Gendry already has a name."

"He married a Stark," she continued, "and so he is a Stark."

"Do not be silly, Sansa." Arya scoffed, though there was a familiar warmth blooming in her chest, "We never even married and if we did, he married a woman and men cannot take a womens name, no matter how foolish that is"

"Perhaps," her sister replied, nodding her head, "but as far as anybody knows, Gendry had no name to give you, and your station is far above his." Arya scrunched her nose up at the remark of her station. "Therefore," she continued, "it is not impossible for him to have taken your name."

"In that way, he would not be able to be legitimised as a Baratheon anyhow."

Sansa leant back in her seat, a calculative gleam in her eyes, "Yes." She muttered, pouring more tea, "That may just work."

Arya fiddled with the pages of her book, before standing and placing it to the side. "I must be going," she said, "if I do not get Gendry now, then I fear he will never leave his forge."

"Of course," Sansa replied, picking her hoop back up, "tell him I said hello."

Arya made her way through the castle, entering the courtyard to a gust of wind and letting her skirts drag through the fresh snow. She heard him before she saw him, as was the norm with Gendry, the sound of a hammer hitting steel echoing throughout the still air.

She lingered in the doorway, watching his muscles clench and flex with every swing of his hammer. The smell of smoke welcomed her in, and she kept her footsteps light as she walked.

"And then," Carsens voice sounded out, his skinny arms carrying what seemed to be horseshoes, "they started fighting! Right in the kitchens."

The boy sighed, putting the horsehoes down in their respective area, "I just don't know what to do! And of course Lyra saw, and now she's not speaking to me which is completely unjust!" He leant against one of the anvils, "It's all messed up, Gendry, so messed up."

Carsen jumped up suddenly, pointing his bony figure accusingly, "And - and Lyra got to see you first! That's not fair!"

Gendry chuckled, setting his hammer down, "I didn't really 'ave a say in it, Carsen."

"But Lyra! Lyra!"

"Yes, Lyra." Gendry sighed as Crasen pouted, and Arya watched on from her place behind the wall. "Listen, Carsen, do ya love 'er?"

He lifted his head, his brows creasing, "What?"

"It's simple," Gendry replied, turning to look at him properly, "Alora and - and - what's her name again?"

"Tracy."

Gendry nodded, "Right, Tracy. Between the two o' 'em, who do ya love more?"

Carsen huffed, drawing his arms across his chest and shaking his head, "I- I don't know." He said, looking at the ground, "I don't even know what that feels like."

"Well," Gendry mirrored his stance, wiping soot from his cheek but smearing it even further, "Love is when ya never want to be away from tha' person, because she makes everythin' feel right. It's like, even when she's bein' the biggest pain in yer ass, ya don't care because all ya want is for 'er to be happy."

He dipped his head down, scuffing his shoes on the stone floor, "Yuh'd do anythin' ta make 'er happy, because she's yer family."

Aryas chest felt fit to burst, her eyes burning slightly. She watched as Gendry lifted his head, continuing, "Now, do ya feel tha' with any o' them."

Carsen shook his head slowly, his blond curls bouncing.

"Well, my advice lad, is that ya wait fer tha' girl ta come along, because she's worth it an' ya dun wanna loose 'er ta somethin' petty like whether or not ya should shag Alora or Tracy."

Crasens face went a bright red, and Arya stifled a giggle, instead, choosing that time to clear her throat, stepping out from behind the wall. "Having a gossip without me, are you?" Gendrys face lit up at the sight of her, a lopsided grin on his face. Arya felt her heart stutter at the sight of him.

He stretched an arm out, and Arya stepped into his embrace, leaning on her tiptoes and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Carsen," she greeted, "so what is this I hear about Alora and Tracy?"

The boy huffed, "My Lady, it is an absolute disaster."

She giggled, leaning further into Gendrys side, his arm wrapped around her waist. Arya saw Carsens eyes track their movements, his face pinched. "You," she said, "are just as dramatic as Lyra."

"My Lady!" He gasped, before muttering, "There is no way I am remotely similar to that little pest."

"Now, now," she warned, "be nice, Lyra is quite possibly your only friend after that fiasco."

"That does not help, my lady."

"Sure it does," she replied, holding onto Gendrys hand at her waist, "Lyra is currently in my chambers, go and talk to her, clear this whole thing up."

Gendry nodded, "She's right lad, go speak with 'er."

Carsen nodded back, his thumb between his teeth, bidding them goodbye. They were left in the heat of the forge, the smoke from the coals misting around them.

Arya turned fully in his arms, tilting her head back to look at him properly. "Hello, love." His voice vibrated throughout her, and she repressed a shiver, "Hello to you too, bull."

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing her soft and slow. Aryas heart threatened to burst from her chest, leaping and jumping and sprinting. She pulled back slowly, resting her hands on his chest. "I have something to tell you." She muttered, her eyes still closed.

He hummed, "Go on then."

"I- we-" she huffed, resting her head on his chest, his arms circling her, "I think we should get married, for true, in front of the Old Gods."

Gendrys hand went to her hair, pulling her head back before he kissed her, love and passion and devotion encompassed in one simple move. "There's nothin'," he said, tracing her jaw with his thumb, "tha' I would want more than ta be yer husband, Arry."

Arya breathed a sigh of relief, nodding her head, "Good." She said, before stepping backwards and taking his large, stained hands in hers, "There's something else I need to tell you, also."

Gendry nodded encouragingly, and she sucked in a heavy breath, moving his hands slowly to her stomach. She let them rest there, placing her hands over his.

She watched the realisation dawn upon him, his eyes snapping from her stomach to her, back to her stomach and back to her. He stepped towards her, and Arya felt her throat tighten at the thin sheen of tears in his eyes. Gendry laughed weakly, "Really?"

"Really." Arya replied as the tears spilled from his eyes and his lopsided smile appeared on his face. Her heart thumped even louder as he gathered her in his arms, pressing kisses into her hair and on her face and Arya could feel her own tears begin to make way.

"We're 'avin' a baby." He laughed, his face painted with awe as he rested his hand on her stomach once again.

She nodded, laughing with him, "We're having a baby."

His face went cloudy for a moment, and he pulled back, "The king -"

"- doesn't matter." She interjected, cupping his face in her hands, "Sansas dealing with it." Arya let her fingers trail across his skin, soot staining the pads of her fingertips, "We're having a baby, Gen, we're going to be a family."

He swept her up in his arms once more, not letting her go until the sun had long set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some pure fluff for ya everyone !!  
> also, i think theres gna be 2-3 chapters left, and then an afterword from our museum! fun times fun times  
> sorry this is kinda late, ive been really busy with home learning and stuff, we have our assessment week which is a looot. but it'll be all over by next week, and i'll be regularly updating this one again !!  
> and to whoever thought she was pregnant, u were u right !!! subconsciously she knew, but Sansa was the one to confirm it  
> (also also, my mind has been telling me lately to write a prequel for this, so what would u guys think? i mean, u wouldnt even have to have read this one to read it since its a prequel, but it would cover their falling in love and 'the incident')  
> as always, thank you all so much for reading n please comment n lmk what u think !!!


	13. it's more courageous to overcome

Though this letter is not directed towards Ser Gendry, it is included in our exhibit as it gives greater understanding of the events proceeding the kings visit and Lady Aryas feelings towards these events. It also displays the ladys feelings towards her husband.

_Dear Jon,_

_Much has happened in the past two months since I have written to you, and I find myself wishing that you were here to muse my hair once more. I miss you dearly brother, now more than ever._

_Gendry has returned to me, and I am with child._

_Stop it! I can see your already present frown deepening but I want you to know that I am happy, Jon, truly. I think I always knew, and yet the news was a surprise. Everybody thought I would never marry or have a child, and I believed it too. For so long I wondered who would want to have a child with me, who could love Arya Horseface?_

_But then Gendry came into my life, and you know how he made me feel Jon. It was as if I was the most beautiful person to him, and he never tried to change me, never wished to change me. He made me daggers, and sharpened needle. He loves me as I am, and I love him._

_This child is my miracle, a gift from the Old Gods. A child with the man I love and the man who loves me. This babe will know nothing but peace and love, and I am so happy, brother._

_Though it was not all so simple._

_When the king arrived at Winterfell it was clear he took me as his Lyanna reborn, and that perhaps he meant to take me as his wife._

_(For context, it seems Lady Cersei has been unfaithful, she was arrested after the ball and her trial will begin shortly. The king will be granted an annulment by the High Septon.)_

_During the welcoming ball I tried to stay as far away as possible with Bran being my lookout. It worked for a while, but not forever. The king spotted me, and he did things I would rather not speak of._

_(Not how bad you are thinking of, Jon.)_

_It was humiliating and vile, but all I could think of was the countless of women he has done this to, unable to say no. The women whose families could not save them in that moment as ours did. Women have the right to say no, even to the king._

_Wylla had the band play something and it broke the spell (curse, more like.) I ran to my mother, and I saw a side of father I had never seen before. He looked like the old kings of winter, the air growing cold around him._

_The king proclaimed that he wanted an annulment, especially when 'his Lyanna' was there._

_(Lyanna is dead and still this man believes he has some sort of claim over her.)_

_Surprisingly enough, it was Sansa who saved me. She told the king that regardless of his marital status, he could not marry me as I was already wedded. To Gendry, that being._

_It seemed that Sansa sent a letter to Gendry, explaining the situation and asking for him to come to Winterfell. He did, and when he came through the great doors, Jon, I swear there was nothing quite like it._

_Sansa felt a great deal of remorse for what she did, and I cannot say I do not blame her. Though, I am ready to forgive her, for nothing less than bringing him back to me and stalling the kings advances._

_This letter is not quite over for there is still more to say._

_Gendry is apparently King Roberts illegitimate son._

_Things seem to be getting more and more complicated just when I hope that the dust has finally settled._

_Gendry is the kings bastard son, which is why he was sent to Winterfell in the first place. Lord Jon Arryn allegedly discovered the truth of Lady Cerseis infidelity and the illegitimacy of her children. He visited Gendry, made the connection of his parentage and sent him to Winterfell where he would be safe._

_And, I assume, where he could one day become the heir to the king._

_That, my brother, is never going to happen._

_Gendry says it is one of the many folly of highborns, the assumption that all smallfolk look up to them and will do whatever they bid. I agree with him, spending time with the smallfolk for even one hour will tell you that they are intelligent people, not simple-minded like many nobles believe._

_Sansa believes our marriage will save him as it saved me. She says that for he did not have a last name to give me, it is plausible that I gave him mine. Gendry is a Stark, she says, and so he cannot be a Baratheon._

_(Robert has many bastards, I am sure one of them will want the throne.)_

_Though, I imagine that Robert may be more lenient regarding this as Gendry and I's wedding seemed to have fulfilled some sick fantasy of his. Robert and Lyanna reborn, they whisper, and it seems Robert is smitten with it._

_We are not them, Jon, we are Arya and Gendry only._

_Yet the kings eyes go distant when he spies us, though you will be surprised that father has tightened the leash on his behaviour. I suspect it has something to do with Sansa - who seems to be her own smitten whenever she passes Lady Cersies chambers - and the South._

_It matters not, for I am happy and free and with the man I love once again._

_The king can try to make Gendry his heir, but I will slit his throat before he even begins to sign the decree._

_I am sorry I have not written to you lately, and I swear I will keep you updated during the trial and, most importantly, about the babe._

_(Also, one of Lady Cerseis charges was incest but whispers from the servants have been trickling in. It seems that charge will be discarded, a way to keep Lord Lannister appeased. Lord Tyrion has a hand in that, I think, for he seemed too calm during the arrest._

_Lord Tyrion would never let anything happen to his brother, I know. It would also be foolish to kill Lord Tywins golden heir alongside Lady Cersei, at least it would appease him in some way._

_The trial will take place in Winterfell, away from the manipulations of the South.)_

_Please write back when you can, brother, and if you find the opportunity, please come visit. Any time, really, but there would be nothing I would wish for more than you to meet my child. I hope the Wall is not too boring, I do not wish for you to die of boredom Jon._

_Your sister,_

_Arya._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jon !! i love jon, and i feel like this is a good way to begin to bring the story to a close  
> two more chapters left everyone, and then we’re finished :( sad to see it end, i really enjoyed writing this and i hope uve enjoyed reading it !!  
> not over yet though, two more left !  
> as always, thank you for reading n comment n lmk what u think !!


	14. how you will heal and you'll rise above

This letter was the inspiration behind many poems, novels and films. The golden-hand winning film ‘The Blacksmiths Bride’ - about Lady Arya and Ser Gendrys romance - employs many of its feminist and sacrafical themes from this letter. The 600 page novel ‘Needle’ - written about Lady Aryas life - consists of similar themes, and the 700 page novel ‘The Bull’ - written about Ser Gendrys life - takes its class criticisms from this letter. This letter was found with Ser Gendrys belongings, different to the rest of the letters as they were found with Lady Aryas. It is more worn than the others, and it is believed that he kept it with him whenever he was away from his wife.

It is thought to be one of their most profound letters.

_Dear Husband,_

_It feels odd to write that, my love,_ _husband._ _As if someone will snatch you away from me just as fast as you came back to me. I am under no false pretences how lucky I am to utter that word, husband. I am under no false pretences of how lucky I am, in my everyday life. I have married the man who I love, and who loves me. You are my great love, Gendry, and I know that I cannot love another the way I love you. Our babe is further proof of that, my bull, proof of our love for one another._

_We will love this child beyond belief, and they will never know anything else. They will never grow up feeling feelings of inadequacy, or isolation. They will never have to sacrifice their love just for the comfort of others, and I hope they will know just how much we love them._

_I remember when we first kissed, and you ignored me for days afterwards. Your cheeks had gone ruddy, but your eyebrows were pulled together by some invisible string. You would run off if I saw you in the halls, and you would disappear into the dark recesses of the smithy whenever I would try to find you._

_Suffice to say, my love, I was very angry with you._

_For_ _days_ _you ignored me! We got to the fifth day, and I remember being so livid with you, but also heartbroken, too. I thought you didn’t want me, and I thought I had ruined everything. Lyra, at the tender age of ten, had to comfort me as I wept._

_(I would say it was humiliating, but I am trying to embrace my feelings. Set a good example for the babe and all.)_

_It was also Lyra who brought us back together, getting Carsen to bring you to the forge and stay there. I remember as she dragged me through the courtyard, the night a blanket around us. Your face as she yelled at you was a sight to see, my love, the tips of your ears had gone a bright red._

_(Who knew a ten year old girl could be so frightening? I’m sure Carsen would say he did, but I suspect Tracy knows more well than him. Lyra seems to have it out for the poor girl, truly, and I do not really understand why._

_Tracy is an unassuming girl, and even Carsen was attempting to woo her for a while - before the incident - but Lyra is convinced she is evil incarnate! She has a working theory that the poor girl is planning some sort of coup of Lyras position, as if I would let that happen._

_Perhaps I should speak to Lyra of this.)_

_It was dreadfully awkward, and we didn’t speak for a good while. I was the one who broke it, I remember, when I asked you if you hated me. You looked so bewildered, but i’m not sure what you expected! Running off as you did, what was I to suspect? You had looked down at your hands, and there were fresh burns on your palms and forearms._

_I can see you clearly, then, just as I can hear your words. You told me that a lady could not be with a blacksmith, a bastard at that. You told me that you were not worthy of me, in any sense of the word. You told me that you were wicked for what you were thinking, just what my mother believed all bastards were as._

_I told you that you were stupid._

_Of course, your fears were not unfounded. I know that now just as I knew it then, but you are the farthest thing from wicked, my love. There are noblemen far worse than you, who believe they are owed everything yet work for naught. Noblemen who believe they are owed women, and that women belong to them. They act on their urges with no repercussions or anything of consequence for they are noble, yet it is apparently bastards who are wicked._

_I told you this, just as I told you that you were beyond worthy of me and I will tell you it all again just as I will tell you it everyday. Every part of me, Gendry, every part of my mind, my heart, my dagger wielding fingers, every part of my soul wanted every part of you. I want the ashes from the smithy to mark my skin in the shape of your hands, I want to sleep with my head on your chest, and your hands running through the ends of my hair._

_When I had told you this, you gaped like a fish out of water. Yet it is all true, for I could not lie to you. I still can’t, you have a disconcerting ability to always tell when I lie even when nobody else can._

_I remember when you took my face in your hands, and kissed me proper. It was the sweetest, best kiss of my life thus far._

_(Though, the ones after have done a marvellous job in rivalling it.)_

_Yet, even when we were sneaking around like children playing games, I still saw the apprehension written into your face. There was nothing I could do to erase it, I knew my station would hang over us like a sword. And so it was truly no surprise when you tried to break it off._

_It was the smithy, again, (everything important always seems to happen to us there) and you had told me you knew this wouldn’t work out and so it was best to just end it now. You spoke with a casual tone, but I could see your hands curled into fists and the tenseness in your shoulders._

_I said no._

_You looked at me yet again with that fish expression. I kept on talking, though, for I knew I had to speak or I would cry. I told you that if you truly did not want to be with me, then that was fine, and I would be heartbroken but I would deal with it. But if you still loved me, then we would make it work. All you had to say was that you didn’t love me._

_You couldn’t, and I remember being so relieved._

_In a way, you were right. That day happened not long after, and I think I now know the true meaning of heartbreak. But I do not wish to dwell on those days, seemingly endless in their misery, instead I want to reminisce on the good._

_(If you notice some smudging, please ignore. It is not my fault, it is the babes.)_

_We got married tonight, my love, and I have never known true peace until then. The weirwood leaves that marked my path, the moonlight that illuminated the Godswood. Your eyes, my bull, and the tears that fell as I came in front of you. The cloak that rested upon your shoulders, grey and white, now rests upon our chair. You are mine, and I am yours._

_Sansa told me I looked beautiful, a true lady. Mother agreed, but I do not. I am not a lady, not really, for as I write this I can see the remnants of ash on my hands, on the pads of my fingers. There’s a faint handprint in soot on my hip, and the smell of metal lingers in my hair, hidden beneath oils of lavender and hibiscus._

_I am not a lady, I know that. I am the blacksmiths wife, and I relish in it._

_Ever yours,_

_Your wife, Arya_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost finished :,)  
> this is technically the last letter, and the next chapter will be an afterword from the museum.  
> this fic has been an absolute joy to write, and i hope u have all enjoyed it as much as i have  
> see you in the afterword !!  
> as always, thank you all so so much for reading and please comment n lmk what u think !!


	15. afterword

**Love Through the Ages**

_Afterword_

_Love Through the Ages_ was created to showcase some of history's most poignant displays of love, whilst also giving insight to the historical context and events that were partaking at the time. There are many different time periods in this exhibition, which will be organised chronologically in this afterword.

_Page 56_

**The Regency Era**

The Regency Era in Westeros marked a shift in societal attitudes - namely towards things such as women's rights, class and even to a certain extent, sexuality.

The Era began with King Robert Baratheon, who rose to power after what is known as ‘Roberts Rebellion’ in which he lead the rebellion to overthrow the reigning Targaryen monarchs. He married Lady Cersei Lannister shorty thereafter, who gave birth to three children.

However, it was revealed that Lady Cersei’s children were illegitimate and she was tried and beheaded in Winterfell, on charges of infidelity and treason. King Robert wished for his illegitimate son, Ser Gendry, to be his heir but the young man refused - stating that he took his wife, Lady Arya Starks name and therefore could not be a Baratheon.

King Robert instead named his heir as Lord Stannis Baratheon, however he would never see kingship. The three brothers, King Robert, Lord Stannis and Lord Renly died in a shipwreck. Lord Eddard Stark and his son Lord Robb Stark were the first to proclaim Shireen Baratheon as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She ruled for fifty years with her husband, Prince Consort Devan Seaworth. Queen Shireen lead Westeros into a cultural revolution, with more relief for the poor and pioneering the arts and education. Her son, King Durran Baratheon, inherited the throne without contest. 

**Lovers in the Regency Era**

**_Lord Commander Jon Snow:_** Jon Snow was the 2,782nd Nights Watch Commander, and is credited with revolutionising this institution. Under Lord Commander Snow, the Nights Watch focused its efforts on the free folk - once known as ‘wildlings’ - beyond the wall.

Jon Snow negotiated peace talks, successfully brokering an alliance with the free folk and the Nights Watch became an institution focused on mapping the lands beyond the wall. It grew in prestige, and under Jon Snow, the Nights Watch became a powerful institution many boys were eager to join.

What is less known of Jon Snow, however, is his sexual orientation. It is known and taught that he had romantic relations with a woman named Ygritte beyond the wall, who tragically died in battle. It is thought that this is what led Jon Snow to his idea in changing the Nights Watch aims. However, what is not taught is that Jon Snow found love again after her death in Satin Flowers, his steward.

On display here is the cloak that Satin Flowers stitched for Snow. It is said that it was the cloak that Jon Snow almost constantly wore, despite him having plenty of others. We know from Samwell Tarlys personal accounts that it was Satin who stitched this, as he was asked for the funds for the fabric and saw him stitching late into the night

The cloak is black, as is the standard Nights Watch uniform, and the clasp that holds it together is a direwolf. Whilst Nights Watch members give up their houses, Jon Snow had a direwolf - Ghost - that he raised as a pup, which could be the inspiration for the clasp.

Stitched into the inside of the pockets of the inside of the cloak, is a design of flowers. There are traditional winter roses, and the flower moonbloom, which is found in the city of Oldtown; from which Satin hails from. 

This cloak is considered of very fine quality, and it has been studied by historians, textile researchers, and even professors of the fashion field. Hundreds of professionals from each trade agree that this cloak was made with great love for the wearer. 

It is considered the folly of many that Lord Jon and Lord Satins relationship was not made public knowledge. It was kept from the national school curriculum, and not shown in any forms of media. However, this changed when the 2017 bestselling novel, ‘Lord Snow’ was released, which detailed both of Jon Snows romantic relationships.

Since this was published, Lord Snows relationship with Lord Satin was included in the national curriculum, and many poems, films and novels were released afterwards.

Samwell Tarly - Maester at Castle Black - writes in his personal account that, _‘Jon Snow was a dour man, whose face was stuck into a permanent frown. He could often be found in his solar, atop of the wall or in the courtyard, and yet no matter where he was, he could always be found brooding.’_

_‘Though that is not to say he could not smile, for he certainly could. Lord Snow did not jest often, that is true, but he made various sarcastic comments and he had plenty of friends within the watch. However, his face would light up into a bright smile whenever he saw the form of Lord Steward Satin Flowers.’_

_‘First Steward Satin had the ability to curb the agressions of any man, and he could charm any woman. He had soft, pale skin and dark hair that fell into waves. Most people who saw the man were charmed, and Lord Snow was no expectation. His face would turn a shade of pink never seen on his cheeks before and he would rush over to greet him. He would smile and joke, and sometimes he would stammer as if he were a green boy once again.’_

_‘And many may think Lord Satin was simply humouring Jon, though I know the truth. Lord Satin had an unsavoury past, that is true, - but he was always open about it - and many of the men would target him as a result. Lord Snow protected him, and in turn Lord Satin began to trust him.’_

_‘Their relationship grew, and I can safely say that I have never seen a truer form of devotion, trust and, dare I say, love than I saw between Jon and Satin.’_

From, _And now my watch has ended: The Wall and The Watch under Lord Commander Jon Snow_ by Maester Samwell Tarly, 1866.

 ** _Lady Arya Stark:_** Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell was the third child of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark née Tully. She was the second daughter, and was often known as the ‘She-Wolf’ or the ‘Little Wolf’ of Winterfell, mainly due to her behaviour that was deemed unfitting of a lady of her social standing.

Lady Arya preferred horseback riding and sword fighting, as shown by her numerous collection of weapons (including daggers, arrows, throwing knives etc.) 

It was also said that Lady Arya preferred the company of servants and household staff to the likes of her fellow Lord and Ladies. The household of Winterfell allegedly called her ‘Arya Underfoot’ for she was a curious child who was always where she wasn’t supposed to be - ‘under their feet.’ She had a strong friendship with her ladies maid, Lyra Saller, whom she often saw as a daughter figure.

Later in her life, Lady Arya became a pioneer for womens rights, and is what we would call now, a ‘proto-feminist’. She frequently held speeches to the Queens court in this fashion. Historian Kari Bryne writes of one of Lady Arya’s impromptu speeches in her biography, _Lady Arya Stark: Needles and Swords._

_‘The Lady Arya was present at a dinner held in Kings Landing at the Queens request, as a representative for the North. She wore a gown of grey silk, and under her sleeves were hidden daggers fashioned by her husband.’_

_‘Lord Harsbury, a new Lord - his father having been risen to his station - made a pointed remark on how men were much more adequate than women. It is said the court when deathly quiet, and Queen Shireen could be seen hiding her smile in her teacup when Lady Arya spoke.’_

_‘She asked him to repeat what he said, and the Lord foolishly did so. Lady Arya then spoke in a passionate speech about the accomplishments of women, from the Queens Nymeria, Rhaenys, Visenya and Queen Shireen herself. Then she spoke of the common woman, who work the same trade as men and who have to endure the attitudes of men such as Lord Harsbury at the same time.’_

_‘The Lady finished by telling him that without a woman, he would not be sitting in front of her. It was then that she fished a dagger from her sleeve, and stuck it in the wooden table between his fingers. She uttered her now famous phrase, ‘the woman is important too.’_

_‘From that moment forward, whenever somebody would ask her husband if he was not ashamed by his wifes behaviour, he would reply with the phrase ‘the woman is important too’ before telling them to never speak to him again - with much more obscene language.’_

From, _Lady Arya Stark: Needles and Swords_ by Kari Bryne, 1998.

On display here are Lady Aryas letters written to her lover, a blacksmith at Winterfell, Gendry. Eight are displayed here, along with one letter from her sister, Sansa, to Gendry and another from herself to her half-brother Jon, at the Wall. Also in this exhibit is the dagger that Ser Gendry made Lady Arya and gave to her upon his return, and whilst he made hundreds more weapons for her, these were either buried with her, given to her children or are on display at the Winterfell Museum of The North.

Lady Arya wrote over four hundred letters to Ser Gendry, irrespective of wherever they where, or if they were together. It is said they were kept in one drawer, that was almost overflowing. Ser Gendry kept certain letters on him at all times, and from the condition of the paper, it is assumed that he spent hours tracing the words over with his finger. 

The couple had six children together; their eldest being Lyarra Stark, who is mentioned in the letters displayed. Their other children were Jocelyn Stark, Ann Stark, - who was named after Ser Gendrys mother - William Stark, Jon Stark - named after Lady Aryas brother - and Ser Raya Stark, the third female knight of Westeros. All children inherited the classic Baratheon colouring, which many historians use as a credit to Lady Cerseis children being illegitimate.

Lady Arya and Ser Gendrys love had been a popular subject in various forms of media and since the publication of their letters their love has been immortalised in the modern publics minds. Poetry, novels and films have all used Lady Arya and Ser Gendry as their subjects. ‘The Blacksmiths Bride’ came out in 2019, and won the golden-hand for best motion picture. The title comes from many of Lady Aryas letters, and is thus far considered one of the truest depictions of their relationship.

In her personal account, Lady Sansa Arryn née Stark - Lady Aryas sister - writes that _‘When I was younger, I would read romance stories with a furious obsession. I would swoon over tales and songs of knights saving maidens, and of love so true it could save a mans life.’_

_‘I changed when I went to the South, and my views of love shifted too. I believed that the love I would always be given was a facade, and hidden beneath it was a darkness, an evil that would appear just when you believed you were safe. And when I saw those who were in love, and whose lover loved them back, I became angry and resentful.’_

_‘Three weeks after I came home, I was faced with one of the purest forms of love I had ever seen. Ser Gendry looked at my sister as if she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky, and she looked at him as if he were the only man in the room. I caught them one night, and I am ashamed of what I did.’_

_‘I was angry and, admittedly, jealous. Ser Gendry - simply Gendry at the time - was quite frankly, the most handsome man in Winterfell; he was strong and yes, surly, but also kind. And he was enamoured by my sister. I thought to myself, ‘why does she get to have this?’ and I ruined everything.’_

_‘When I righted my wrongs, and when they reunited, I knew that I would never again see such an utter form of intimacy and tenderness. My mother and father loved each other, yes, and I came to love my husband but Arya and Gendry worshipped each other, and were completely, unapologetically and irrevocably in love with each other.’_

From the autobiography, _Wolves and Falcons_ by Lady Sansa Arryn, 1863.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, she’s finished :,)  
> i loved writing this fic so so much, and i’m actually quite sad it’s finished. it’s been a lovely ride, and i’ve loved getting all ur input  
> i decided to end where it all began, with our museum  
> thank you all so so so much for reading and commenting, it means the absolute world to me  
> i’ll see you all again in the future !! <33


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